


A Vicious Tangle

by TommyLane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Club!sex, Exhibitionism, Light Bondage, M/M, Murder Mystery, Oral Sex, Rimming, Smidge of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 114,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5616322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TommyLane/pseuds/TommyLane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a Dark Artifacts Specialist, Draco Malfoy only had two rules to follow. 1) Stay emotionally detached from all cases and 2) Keep the many facets of Potter to their respective boxes. But when a new case has him straddling the line of his reality and another’s, he finds himself unable to keep from falling headlong into its puzzle with Potter always right at his side – tangling himself up in Draco’s already fretted mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters from the books and I am not making any money off of this.
> 
> A/N: Hi all! This story will be 24 chapters in total and is completely written. I will be updating rather quickly, just doing one last edit and read through as I post. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

 

 

"Tricky little bugger aren't you?" Draco murmured with a quill poised still in the air, the feathered end flicking a bit of hair out of his face before he set its blackened tip to the yellowed parchment. It scratched and dipped perfectly executed black lines of ink, the column filled with his neat scrawl before he set it gingerly down on his desk - his eyes narrowing at the small round disk hovering before him. "Let's try..." He tilted his head and tapped his wand, his wrist bending in a careful loop.

 

The disk quivered, glowed green, then stopped.

 

He frowned, sitting back heavily in his chair as he stared at the seemingly innocent hunk of metal. It was beautiful really, a perfect circle, thick without being heavy, small enough to fit in the palm of a child's hand. It looked painted - broad strokes of midnight black and emerald green swirling together in an intricate pattern over its surface on both sides - but his analysis told him quite firmly that it wasn't. There was nothing organic about it, whatever metal it was made from was unrecognizable, an unknown in all the records he had run it past. Then there was the little notches on the side that were in exact even paces around the edge but they weren't scorched or cut or spelled or even drilled with one of those infernal muggle devises he had seen in the Department of Muggle Artifacts.

 

It was a mystery.

 

He had been working on it nonstop for much too long already, casting every spell he knew at it to try to get it to open up its secrets to him to no avail. For all intents and purposes it seemed to do nothing, just something pretty to look at, but Draco knew better. There was a darkness to it that he could feel when his back was turned, a thrumming that seemed to stop the moment he caught onto it, almost like it could sense him noticing it.

 

It was like the jewelry he used to see his Aunt Bellatrix wear and others like her when he was young. Enticing, lovely, drawing the eye and eventually the hand...

 

With a sigh he drummed his fingers over his desk before he dropped his voice, a careful drone of words devoid of any inflection or emotion. The words spilled from his lips in a long string as the air seemed to thicken around him, filling his tiny office with a heaviness that infiltrated every pore in his body and nook of his office. Every little space except for the area around the disk. The air grew misty in a perfect sphere, repelling the chant that took all of Draco's concentration and power to maintain.

 

The mist swelled, thickened, obscured the bright green and deep black before it shattered and dispersed like it was nothing more than smoke and a strong gust of air had just displaced it from existence.

 

Setting his jaw against the ache he felt forming behind his eyes, Draco pinched the quill between his fingers and set it to the parchment once more, his sentence ending in a harsh punctuation that sent a blot of ink blooming in a spidery web.

 

Damn it, he dropped the quill and shut his eyes, the tension in his shoulders and back spreading with yet another failed attempt. It never took him this long before he was able to get a glimpse into an artifact. It was something he prided himself on, how quickly he could coax the artifacts brought to him open, how naturally he could get them to bend to his will. It was an intoxicating power, a spark of energy that kept him going through the most difficult cases. It was all always worth it in the end. Worth all the long and arduous work to see that look in a certain Auror's eye when he finished ahead of their anticipated time frame.

 

Not to mention the fact that he was the best in his tiny department was something akin to wearing a shiny badge pinned to his chest, proclaiming to all the people who loved to loath him that they could feel however they like but they were still forced to respect him. And respect was really more than he could have ever hoped for.

 

But respect was like a blossom in winter. Fragile and easily lost. One misstep would be all it took to snatch it back from him.

 

The sound of paper pinging against metal slants reached his ears seconds before a sharp point was jabbing into his forehead - pecking at him with such an insistence and belligerent disregard that Draco immediately knew who the memo was from without even looking.

 

He hated inner office memos and there pointed tips and flapping wings.

 

He snatched it out of the air, crumbling it in his fist before prying its flaps open and staring down at the untidy, blotted scratches. He eyes caught on the barely legible words - my office, urgent, immediately, and NOW - with a snarl curling his lips up and making his head pound something fierce. It rang loud and clear of disrespect, of barely veiled contempt.

 

That or Potter was in a mood again. Either way he wasn't in the mood to deal with the Auror and his insane self-righteousness that made him so incredibly touchy when a case wasn't going his way.

 

Not that he had a choice in the matter.

 

With a flick of his wand the disk was dropping carefully back down into its protective case, the locks clicking into place at Draco's command before the thick black box went floating over to the far wall covered in shelves housing similar boxes. He watched it insert itself in its ordered spot, the gleaming number 47 staring back out at him before Draco waved his hand and the entire shelf disappeared back into the wall, leaving no hint to its presence and all the hundreds of Dark Artifacts locked safely away.

 

Then he sat there. And waited - flipping a coin from his pocket in the air and watching its graceful arch and decent as he counted silently in his head.

 

The second memo came in record speed, surging straight towards Draco's eye like it had some sort of personal vendetta - Potter really needed to learn how to send his memo's out with less emotion. He smirked as he ducked out of the way and watched with a smug satisfaction as it went crashing into the wall. He didn't bother retrieving it and reading its contents, he knew what it would say, Potter was predicable like that.

 

And in all honesty it was a button Draco liked to push so he got those memos rather frequently. It was juvenile perhaps but fun none the less and made working with the sainted hero more bearable.

 

With a quick and practiced duck (the doorway seemed to be shrinking, something he kept writing the maintenance department about but had yet to see any difference despite their claims of actually doing something about it), he was slipping from his office and striding down the narrow, badly lit hall.

 

Draco's department, made up of him and two others - a tall woman whose robes always smelled of boiled cabbage named Damaris Luckwood and a pocked faced man who refused to look Draco in the eye due to something he honestly couldn't fathom because Mr. Cobble only ever mumbled under his breath - was located in an annex on the second floor of the Ministry of Magic. The space was small and dank and people generally forgot where they were altogether despite the fact that they were located near the Auror offices for convenience reasons. Though Draco thought it more likely that it was so they wouldn't run off with any of the artifacts they studied - like the mere closeness of the fierce Auror's could stop them if they were so inclined.

 

"Coffee Damaris?" Draco pushed the door to her office open with his toe, trying as valiantly as he could not to visibly wrinkle his nose and recoil in revulsion at the smell.

 

"Off to see Potter again dear?" She peered up at him from behind her rectangle spectacles, her smile missing a tooth in the upper corner but still somehow managing to come across rather motherly. He liked Damaris, she was mental sure but sweet and only smiled in welcome when he first joined the department instead of making her hatred for him loud and clear like many others in the Ministry had done.

 

He nodded. "And if I don't hurry along my office will soon be flooded with those infernal memos of his."

 

"I wouldn't say that." She plucked her bright pink mug with cracked red kisses out from her bottom drawer and sent it sailing his way with a carefree flick of her wand. "Mr. Potter's memos are quite lovely I'd say."

 

"Familiar with his pointed messages then?" He snatched the mug with a hooked finger and let it dangle at his side. Merlin he hated her mug and was determined to purchase her a new one during the holiday season if only for the sole reason that he wouldn't have to be seen with it ever again.

 

And maybe because he was fond of her, but that was only a slight reason, he told himself firmly.

 

"Oh yes." She pushed the glasses up her nose with an erect middle finger. "Though usually it's because you're not answering yours. But always very polite Mr. Potter. Very polite indeed."

 

Draco frowned but nodded firmly anyway, there was no use arguing with Damaris, she may look like a wilting flower in the dead of summer and smell like a rotten garden but she was like a stone wall underneath it all - unmovable in her convictions. "Right, I'll be shortly with your coffee." He made to move and leave her be to work on the object that had metal spikes protruding from its seven corners but her wispy voice had him pausing mid-step.

 

"And handsome too, wouldn't you say sweetie?" She wasn't even looking at him, her hands busy with her artifact, her blue eyes haven taken on that glossy sheen that said she was no longer available to the land of the living. But there was a little smile on the very corner of her mouth, barely noticeable but it was there and Draco felt his cheek twitch at the sight of it.

 

She liked to do that Draco had learned over the years. Liked to make little comments right as he was about to leave that stuck a nerve in him, comments that usually had to do with Potter or his personal life despite the fact that they had absolutely nothing to do with each other. "Right." He said to the wall above her bent head before turning on a swift heel and marching down the hall, glaringly hideous mug swinging at his side.

 

The door at the end of the hall creaked as he pushed through it, his ears immediately accosted by the horrendous uproar of the Dark Wizard Hunter's laughter and chatter - their heads poking over the walls of their cubicles to shout at the people next to them. Draco hated it, hated coming to the Auror department with their bright lights and cheery faces juxtaposed by all the scowling and crazed mugs of wanted witches and wizards jeering at him from every inch of available wall space.

 

Smoothing his hair, he stepped down the hall, squeezing himself through the rows of teetering cubicle walls, sidestepping everyone he ran across and very purposely avoiding eye contact as he stared straight ahead. Potter's cubicle was at the very back, smashed between a fake window and a perpetually empty workspace. Draco couldn't help but wonder why that was. Was it some sort of perk for being the so very special Harry Potter? Or did his coworkers simply loath being so close to the git?

 

Draco liked to think that it was the latter.

 

"Ow! God damn - bugger of - every damn time..."

 

He paused at the flow of sputtered, pained, curses that met his ears as he neared, Potter's voice accompanied by a sharp bang and a pronounced thunk. Oh yes he had been right, Potter was indeed in one of his moods. He grinned momentarily before wiping it from his face and rounding the edge of the dull gray partition, smacking the memo that was zipping towards him out of the way with a practiced hand. He wondered what number that was, he would be surprised if it was only the third, a couple had probably accumulated in his office while he was chatting with Damaris.

 

Potter's patience was severely lacking.

 

"Paper win the fight again?" Draco drawled as he entered the workspace.

 

Potter glanced up with a sharp glare, the pad of his ring finger stuck in his mouth as he no doubt sucked on his recently acquired paper cut. "You're late." He grumbled as he pulled his finger free, shaking his hand out a few times and cursing at the tiny red lines that punctuated his skin.

 

Draco counted five cuts and that meant there had been five memo's in total. "No, I was in the middle of an analysis, you're just impatient. Believe it or not Potter I am not you're house elf to pop up and do your bidding whenever you call."

 

"Aren't you though?" Potter's green eyes glimmered as he plopped down behind his wide, ridiculously cluttered desk. There were stacks upon stacks of paper files, empty mugs of coffee, two picture frames that Draco knew housed a photo of his deceased parents and the Weasley family respectively, and a collection of knickknacks that Draco honestly had no clue as to what purpose they served.

 

"Don't let Hermione hear you say that mate." Weasley chuckled form the opposite corner of the cubicle. "Mornin' Malfoy."

 

Draco spared him a glance, his lip curling up in an attempted sneer at the redhead's cheery face smilingly back at him. When he had first started working with the famed partners Weasley had conducted himself exactly as Draco had expected he would. He growled and yelled at Draco every free chance he could get, making sure his disdain for him was more than obvious to everyone within a hundred foot radius. And he sulked. Whining constantly at what bad luck they had getting stuck with such ‘a slimy Slytherin git’ when they had just managed to get rid of his sorry arse when school ended.

 

Not that Draco really minded his vicious comments and outright hatred of him. It was familiar when nothing else in his life had been since the war. But then one day without any warning Weasley had suddenly switched gears, striding into Draco's office one morning with a fuming Potter at his side and grinning widely at the confused blonde...it had all gone downhill from there. Since then Weasley was all smiles, friendly chatter, and oddly timed winks that made Draco highly suspected that the man did it on purpose simply to throw him off kilter.

 

"Good afternoon." He grumbled in correction and greeting before turning back to Potter who was sucking on his finger again.

 

Merlin did the man forget how to cast a simple healing charm?

 

"Finished with the disk yet?" Potter demanded more than asked, making it perfectly clear that he expected Draco to have figured it all out by now.

 

"No." Draco stared steadily back at him, unfazed by the uncontainable energy emitting from the other man. "It's proving more complex than I originally anticipated."

 

"Complex." Potter repeated, making Draco scowl as he shifted in his seat and shot Weasley a look. "How long you think?"

 

"To be determined."

 

"Give me an estimate then."

 

Draco's jaw tightened as he stared down at the dark haired man. People often called the young Auror passionate, focused, energized, and obsessive even. Draco knew that it was all true, that nothing could leash Potter back when he had his head to the grind stone and an unsolvable case in his hand. That wasn't the issue, the issue was that he couldn't stay still long enough to see the facts as they were, he couldn't wait to hear out the explanation, he couldn't be bothered to notice that pushing Draco did absolutely nothing except make him want to punch him in the eye. Plus it wasn't like he wasn't trying like Potter was unconsciously hinting at and glaring at him wouldn't cause him to solve the mystery any faster.

 

Potter was the hero. He liked to leap and fight and run.

 

Draco was the brains. He liked to gather and question and have sure solid facts before pushing forward.

 

"Undetermined." Draco ground out with narrowed eyes, watching as Potter frowned back at him.

 

"Malfoy-" He started tightly, looking very much like he was going to go off the hinge again, a look that more often than not made Draco's pulse jump.

 

"Harry." Weasley warned from his corner and Draco had to resist a snort. If Potter was the hero and he was the brains then Weasley, heaven help them all, was the peace maker – a fact that still made Draco’s left eye twitch if he thought too closely on it.

 

Potter swung his narrowed eyes to his friend, mouth fixed in a hard line. "People are dying Ron!" He interjected with a wobble to his voice that liked to sneak its way into his speech whenever innocent lives were involved.

 

"Yeah and getting all indignant won't help anything." Weasley stated, sounding too much like Granger for Draco's comfort, he even had a theory that the curly mess of a girl had her boyfriend on a word of the day study session every morning to expand his vocabulary. "Hear him out, yeah?" He nodded in Draco's direction and Potter stiffened in his chair, his body strung visibly taut. "Or do you need a nap first?"

 

"Fine." Potter grumbled, deflating a little under his mate's piercing blue gaze. "You tosser." A smile twitched on his lips as he picked up a wad of paper and threw it across the cubical, the ball bouncing against Weasley's thick shoulder. Draco glared at the exchange, unsure why seeming them goof around always set him on edge. "Enlighten me than Malfoy, what great obstacle is standing in your way?" He arched an eyebrow and stared expectantly at the blonde.

 

Draco felt a fire ignite from the embers that never seemed to stop simmering in his chest, the same embers that always sputtered back to life when he was around Potter for any length of time. He sneered and folded his arms over his chest, purposely ignoring Weasley's little chuckle as they both caught sight of the glaring pink mug. "If you're unsatisfied with my work Potter then perhaps you should stop requesting me as your analysis expert." He replied with an icy edge to his even tone, his eyebrow lifted in a perfect arch of reserved distaste.

 

Potter's smile fell away as he sat forward abruptly. "I don't request you!" He argued.

 

"You do." Draco smirked.

 

"He does." Weasley agreed with a conspiratorial nod and a lowered voice like Potter wasn't sitting right across from them with an opened mouthed glare.

 

"Oi Ron, on my side remember." Potter snapped, chucking another wad of paper at his partner.

 

"Not this time mate, I'm a forced representative of S.P.E.W remember?" Weasley shook his head as he stood, pulling something from his top drawer before marching over to Potter and slapping it against the right side of his chest. "And you called Malfoy a house elf therefore I'm duty bound to harass you...or something like that." He explained cheerfully, giving the garish lime green pin on Potter's robes a little tap before moving quickly away. "Love the mug, Malfoy." He grinned, swiping the pink atrocity from Draco's loose fingers. "Milk and sugar?"

 

"Please." Draco smiled, relinquishing the mug with gratitude.

 

Potter grumbled under his breath before sending a hex Weasley's way, who dodged it was ease as he slipped from the cubicle with a deep rumbling laugh. "Play nice boys!" He called back at them before disappearing altogether.

 

Draco stared after him, wondering idly why he was always excusing himself for some reason or other whenever Draco showed up. With a sigh he shifted his attention back to the matter at hand, resigning himself to the probability that he would never really understand the youngest Weasley male. Not that he gave it all that much thought, he mostly just joked around with Weasley to get under Potter's skin and well...the redhead could be rather entertaining - at times.

 

"Fucking S.P.E.W." Potter glared at the pin after pulling it from his robes and tossing it tiredly on his desk to rest amongst the chaos. "Look, Malfoy-"

 

"The disk is undefinable." He interrupted with a pronounced sigh, sitting slowly down in the chair opposite him. Draco knew that tone of voice, the tired way he spoke Draco's name, the lift and fall of his chest beneath his black and red robes, the slow blink of his green eyes. Potter always came at him strong, demanding, belligerent even, but it usually ended up like this when he did and it told Draco everything.

 

It told him that Potter wasn't sleeping. That he probably wasn't eating well either. That he lived and breathed his current case and that it was plucking maddeningly at his heart and brain till his every last nerve was flayed open. Draco's chest ached at the sight of it and though he couldn't say why it mattered that Potter was so disheartened, it simply did.

 

"How so?" Potter glanced up, his eyes lit with curiosity.

 

"The metal is unknown, the markings unheard of, the paint...it's like it's been plucked from an entirely different dimension. There is no precedent for it, nothing affects it, nothing harms it, nothing is even changed by it." Draco explained as best he could to someone who had no background in his line of work. In truth it was so much more complicated than that. So much so that Draco was starting to feel like Potter looked.

 

"So we're fucked." Potter sighed heavily, carding his hand through his thick hair and leaving it there, rubbing at the back of his head.

 

Draco nodded slowly. "I need more information about the case otherwise-"

 

"It's classified."

 

Draco cocked his head and caught Potter's gaze, giving him a pointed look. "Oh? And you've suddenly taken to following the rules to the letter then?"

 

A smile twitched up Potter's cheek. "Are you asking me to bend them for you of all people?"

 

"Are you implying that you don't already do that? I seem to recall an incident last month, at the gala..."

 

Potter cringed and pointed a finger at him with a stern glare. "You promised never to speak of that night."

 

"Promised did I?" Draco smirked. "Because I don't know why I'd willingly seal up such brilliant blackmail material..."

 

"Malfoy you tell and I tell." Potter threatened and Draco's smirk flipped into a frown.

 

Damn, he knew letting Potter save him at the lake last year was going to come back and bite him in the arse, even if it was only losing in a battle of wills that he wasn't even serious about. He had absolutely no desire to tell anyone about what happened at the gala, he didn't need to fuel Potter's obsessive fan club with images like that. His hand tightened on the armrest at the thought, he would have to forcibly wipe their dim little minds if it came to that. Except it wouldn't because he would never let it slip and he was only one who knew what had happened.

 

"Sign this."

 

Draco jerked out of his thoughts to focus on the form sitting before him on the desk, a quill hovering in the air above it. "What is it?" He asked.

 

"Gag restraint. You know, the usual." Potter let a sly smile curve his lips as he waited for him to sign. Draco loathed the way he said things like that, letting them drip off his tongue as if they were of a sexual nature and not some mundane procedure.

 

"Still don't trust me?" Draco feigned hurt, knowing that it was the necessary protocol before Potter could give him any more information, his finger's moving the quill over the form to sign himself over to its constraints - the spells woven into the agreement tingling up his arm as he did so.

 

"I do now." Potter snatched the form back and stuffed it into a drawer before rising from his seat and undoing the black leather clasps holding his Auror robes together.

 

Draco stiffened as his nimble fingers worked. "What on earth are you doing Potter?"

 

Potter chuckled and shrugged the scarlet material off to reveal a worn white tee with a small hole in the bottom hem and dingy jeans. "Off with yours Malfoy." He muttered in response, tossing his robes away and sticking his wand in his pocket that must have been magically enlarged.

 

"I beg your pardon?" He balked, trying not to stare at the way Potter's jeans hugged his arse as he bent to retrieve something from his drawer. Why in the world was he dressed like a homeless squib when Draco knew full well that Aurors had rather nice uniforms of form fitting scarlet and black shirts and thick trousers with pockets along the sides to hide any numerous amount of weaponry.

 

"Off with the robes. We're going to a muggle neighborhood so unless you changed your mind..." He walked round the edge of his desk and propped his hip against the wood with a nonchalant air, obviously enjoying having caught Draco off guard.

 

"You could have led with that information." Draco snapped but stood and undid the tiny buttons holding his trim black robes together, carefully folding the material over the back of his chair after he managed to pull them from his body only to catch Potter holding back a laugh as he stared at him. "Merlin what is it Potter?" He grumbled, glaring at the man and very purposely keeping his hands at his side so he wouldn't start smoothing his clothes in nervousness.

 

"Nothing, it's just...what are you wearing?" Potter was grinning fully now, eyeing Draco up and down.

 

"What am I wearing?" Draco retorted with a pointed look at the hole in Potter's shirt, smirking at the bashful blush and quickly downcast eyes for a split second that overtook Potter's face. "It's called a suit Potter." Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

 

"Yeah I know but a vest? Really, isn't that a bit...much?"

 

"Its work attire you dimwit." Draco sneered and straightened his black tie. "Just because you lack fashion sense doesn't mean everyone else does as well."

 

"I doubt anyone out there is wearing a three piece suit." Potter snickered, his gaze lingering on Draco's hands as he tugged on the hem of his black vest to make sure everything was in its proper place.

 

"That's because everyone in this blasted department in an Auror and you're all culture starved simpletons obviously."

 

"Oh, obviously." Potter's grin widened impossibly as he nodded.

 

"You look as bright as dishwater when you smile like that, did you know?" Draco pocketed his own wand and glanced towards the entrance, not all together surprised when Weasley was still nowhere to be seen.

 

"How sweet of you to notice." Potter chuckled and before Draco could even fathom what he was doing, the Auror had his arm snugly around his waist, their faces brought far too close and making his breath catch from the suddenness of it. "Hold on." He winked and tightened his grip, smashing Draco against him.

 

Draco yelped as they spun - finding himself squeezing through space with a nauseating tug - reminding himself in the back of his brain to yell at Potter the moment they appeared back on solid ground.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm going to kill you." Draco wheezed, blinking up at the clouds floating lazily in the blue sky above him.

 

"I didn't know." Potter huffed out, his glasses lying somewhere on the grass beside them as he rubbed his fingers over his eyes.

 

"It won't be quick either." Draco continued as he tried to catch his breath.

 

"Honestly Malfoy, I didn't know." Potter was breathing much too loudly next to him, his arm brushing Draco's as they laid sprawled on the damp grass - ruining his lovely suit no doubt.

 

"Poison muffins maybe, you always eat without thinking." Draco mused and Potter let out a chuckle.

 

"That's Ron you're thinking of."

 

"Fine, lethal beer then."

 

"I don't like beer." Potter muttered, stretching his legs out with a stifled groan.

 

"What do you mean you don't like beer, of course you do!" Draco turned his head to give the dark haired man an incredulous look.

 

"Why would you assume that?" Potter widened his eyes and blinked before giving up and just squinting in his direction.

 

Merlin Potter had horrid eyesight. "Because as we already established you are a simpleton and simpletons have terribly unrefined tastes."

 

Potter shrugged. "Don't know what to tell you. Makes me sick."

 

"Well that's perfect then, I'll get you sick on beer, nick your glasses, and leave you somewhere." Draco grumbled, propping himself up on his elbows before reaching across Potter's body and plucking the atrocious round spectacles off the ground. The frames were thin, surprisingly so, almost like they could fall apart if Draco handled them just a tad too roughly. It struck him as odd for some reason. Even though it really shouldn't have - they were just spectacles. But still, they were Potter's spectacles and it just felt wrong for them to be so fragile.

 

"So your plan is to get me drunk and then kidnap me?" Potter sounded very much like he was holding back a laugh and Draco couldn't stop himself from shifting his gaze down to Potter in a firm glare. He looked so different without the ugly things marring his face, it made every little nuance stand out shockingly clear, somehow even accentuating the shadow of a beard on his cheeks and chin that he apparently had been too distracted that morning to shave off.

 

He held up the blind Auror's glasses and swung them lightly in his grasp. "Good isn't it?" He smirked and Potter frowned as his squint became even more pronounced.

 

"How are you going to get me drunk?" Potter tipped his head, his black mop lolling in the green grass in a rather frighteningly stark contrast.

 

"Pardon?" Draco cleared his throat, his hand tightening around the glasses.

 

"Well." Potter slipped an arm under his head as he studied him in his squinty, blind as a bat in broad daylight kind of way. "If I don't like beer how do you plan on getting me drunk on it? You'd have to be awfully sneaky."

 

Draco opened and shut his mouth, his jaw tightening as Potter smiled a lazy smile that seemed to reflect the attitude of the clouds drifting above them, parting for the warm summer heat to beat down upon his back. "I...yes. Sneaky..." He trailed off and cursed the blasted sun and its stupid heat rays making him all flustered all of a sudden.

 

He hated feeling like that, it made him trail off without actually saying anything.

 

"Would you sneak into my house and replace all my water with this fated beer of yours and just hope that I don't notice?"

 

"Don't be absurd." Draco scoffed.

 

"You're right, that's not nearly sneaky enough. You'd have to come over, distract me with some awful rant about muggle something or other while holding a beer which after the first hour I'd be so foggy headed and desperate for any sort of distraction that I'd take it and drink it. Of course then you'd have to think of something else just as equally annoying to do to me after I finished the first one..."

 

Draco scowled. "Stop looking so smug Potter."

 

"I'm not smug, I'm about to be murdered remember? Can't really be smug when your life is hanging in the balance." Potter was very clearly trying to get the smile off his face but it wasn't working, his lips ending up in a half smile, half frown type of thing that just made him look mental.

 

"You're getting off topic." Draco grumbled, flopping back down onto the grass simply so he wouldn't have to stare down at Potter's face any longer while he gave Draco pointers on how to get him stumbling drunk which sounded shockingly like the time he himself had gotten drunk and stumbled through Potter's floo simply to yell at him about something at 1:00 in the morning. "The point is that you almost got us killed-"

 

Potter snorted. "That's a bit dramatic, they were children Malfoy."

 

"Raving lunatic muggle children!" Draco corrected. "And why were there even children at your super-secret crime scene that I had to sign a gag restraint before even being allowed to know about?"

 

"Er, yeah...that is rather worrisome."

 

"I should say so." Draco scoffed, holding Potter's glasses up until the sun reflected in their orbs, making him squint in their direction. "And do all muggle children throw rocks like that? Because if so then I really believe that people need to know about these ruffians. Its' a matter of public safety."

 

"No, not all muggle children are ruffians." Potter tried to snatch his glasses back, his hand sailing right past them as Draco snickered, unaccountably unwilling to relinquish the things just yet. "Just those ones but hey, we out ran them."

 

"Should have let me hex them." Draco pouted as he moved the glasses out of Potter's reach once more, finding it far too entertaining watching the other man trying to swipe them from him in his blind state.

 

"Then I would have had to arrest you." Potter sat up with his hands in the damp grass and his eyes trying unsuccessfully to tract the movement of his glasses. "Which would have forced mounds of paper work on me and I hate paper work."

 

"You suck all the fun out of life Potter."

 

"And hexing children is what you think of as fun. That's just sick."

 

Draco shrugged, grinning as Potter missed again, the thin frames slipping over his eyes as he pushed them into place. He blinked as everything morphed into one gigantic fuzzy blob. "Merlin Potter, moles have better eyesight than you."

 

Potter's face loomed closer as he strained his neck, blinking owlishly. "Are you wearing my glasses?"

 

"No." Draco smacked the hand nearing the general area of his face away. "I would never demean myself with such an awful accessory." He rolled onto his knees and cast a quick drying charm on himself as he did so, a pressure building behind his eye as he tried and failed to bring a single thing into focus. It was highly unnerving, feeling the ground under his feet but not being able to make it firmly out, the feel of the wind on his face and the smell of fragrant flowers in his nose but unable to tell where it was coming from.

 

He could guess that the mass of green was grass, that the mass of blue was sky, that the mass of blackish was Potter...

 

"Like drowning," he murmured to himself, a thought lighting brightly around all the fuzziness, it was so simple he was annoyed that he hadn't thought of it before. There was moment after they Apparated, after he regained his footing and jerked away from Potter before the children came jumping out at them. They had been standing in a house burned to the ground, nothing but singed rubble all around them, soot and black ash and broken dreams of the muggles who had lived there. But further down, a few short feet was a slope running down to a river - a river with bubbling white rapids and smooth as glass pockets...

 

"Potter where were the disks found?"

 

"Over there." Potter answered with a confused air as he pointed in the opposite direction they had come from. "Oh wait, or is it...that way?" He spun around and squinted again like that would make it all suddenly perfectly clear. "Bloody hell give me my glasses back."

 

"No you idiot, I mean where exactly?" He reached out and snatched the gray mass that was probably Potter's shirt as the man spun again and started off in a random direction, turning him back around so they were facing each other.

 

"They were in the victims mouths." The blackish blob that was Potter swayed. "Stuck to their cheeks. Let go, you're pinching me."

 

"Their mouths?" He repeated, tightening his grip. "And you didn't think that was an important detail to mention?"

 

"Erm, no? You never cared before..."

 

"And where was the body found?" Draco pressed forward. "Was it in the river?"

 

Potter stopped trying to pry Draco's hand from his shirt, his body suddenly coiling with tension so tight the blonde could feel it radiating off of him. "How did you know that?"

 

"And the others?" Draco pressed. "Were they found in water as well?"

 

"...Yes, Malfoy-"

 

"Blast." Draco muttered to himself and with a quick jerk ripped the glasses from his face and jammed them back into place on Potter's head, the green of his eyes expanding as his pupils contracted, his hand reaching up to adjust them to the right fit. Draco watched him, his mind spinning, flowing like a river, jumping and cresting and descending.

 

Five dead muggles. Five unidentifiable disks attached to the inside of their cheeks.

 

"Malfoy?" Potter asked, his gaze narrowing. "Wha-"

 

Draco didn't stay around to hear the rest of his question, with a quick glance over his shoulder at the empty field all around them, he spun on the spot and Dissapparated. He appeared with his feet already moving forward in the Apparation room on the Ministries ground floor, nearly running over an elderly witch who cursed something rather crude and fierce his way as he moved briskly away and squeezed himself into the first available lift. He pointedly ignored the stares he received as he stumbled from its cage on level two, pushing his hand through his hair and loosening the tie around his neck.

 

The latest body was found in the river. Not in the house that had been burnt to cinders the same night, not in the grass just beyond. But in the river, except that wasn't how the boy had died. Draco knew that, he remembered that much from Potter's indignant rant when he had first summoned Draco to his office to show him the newest disk. They didn't know how the boy had died even after hours of the Healers going over him. The cause of death eluded them all.

 

The door creaked like it always did as he pushed through and into the hall leading to his office.

 

"Oi Malfoy, back already?"

 

He jerked to a halt at Weasley's voice, his head turning to catch sight of the redheaded Auror sitting at Damaris's desk with his feet resting upon it - Damaris's gaudy mug in her hands and a paper one in his own. The entire picture was off and confusing but refused to budge from Draco's eyes even when he blinked and blinked again - they were still sitting there, Damaris reeking of cabbage and Weasley leaning back in his chair looking for all the world like the two were lifelong mates.

 

"Weasley?" He asked, looking behind himself for some reason, like the dim empty hall would offer him all the answers. "What are you doing?"

 

"Having coffee." Damaris answered, lifting the mug to her lips and taking a tiny sip from it.

 

"Where's Harry?" Weasley glanced over Draco's shoulder and smiled in his odd Weasley-ish way.

 

"He's -" Oh...damn. He'd left him in the field in his hurry to get back to test the theory taking shape in his mind. Potter was going to be livid.

 

"Forget him somewhere again?" Weasley snickered, exchanging a look with Damaris that made Draco frown.

 

"I'm sure he didn't forget him, did you dear?" She smiled sweetly between the two of them and Draco cringed, his eyes shifting down and to the left for a split second. "Well, I'm sure it was for a good reason." She continued.

 

Weasley look one last drink from his cup before crumpling it up and tossing it at the rubbish bin. "Well," he said with a drawn out cadence as he stood and shot Damaris a fond smile. "Best be going and Malfoy." He crossed the room and sidestepped him with a little shake of the head. "Good luck."

 

"What for?" Draco asked, watching Weasley's retreating back for the second time that day.

 

"Take a wild guess." And with that he was gone, scarlet and black robes swishing dramatically with the door squeaking horribly loud as it banged shut behind him.

 

"Lovely man." Damaris muttered, pushing her glasses back into place and pulling a sheaf of parchment towards herself. "Simply lovely..." Then she was humming a little ditty known to her and her alone, a tune of clear dismissal that Draco knew quite well.

 

With a tightened fist and even tighter jaw he turned and started back down the hall, slipping under his doorway and snapping the door shut with the heel of his foot. He didn't care what Weasley said, he didn't need luck, he could deal with Potter and his mood swings, he could deal with the wrath of having left the man...again. Though he really should probably stop doing that. Not that it was on purpose. Well except for once but Potter had deserved being stranded in the middle of the desert that time.

 

And he had worked his way free and gotten back eventually.

 

With a flick and swish of his wand the wall opposite him shuddered as the shelves came grinding back into the light, black boxes gleaming with the silver numbers labeling each one printed in precise script. His wand pointed straight at the number 47 and a moment later it was settling onto the desk before him, the locks clicking open. He didn't lift the lid though, instead he summoned a shallow silver bowl from the opposite shelf, a cool trickle of water filling up the basin the moment it touched the wooden desk.

 

"Malfoy!"

 

Draco drew in a breath, closing his eyes for a moment before moving to the cupboard in the corner, ignoring the loud thump of feet he could hear marching down the hall towards him. The door flew open as Draco reached into the depths of the cupboard, his fingers gliding over the various jars and phials inside it.

 

"When I get my hands on-ow!" Potter cried, the wood of the doorway cracking from the collision with his thick head.

 

"Please refrain from shouting." Draco drawled as he glanced over his shoulder and smirked at the sight Potter made - his hand rubbing furiously over his forehead with his nose scrunched up as he glared at the gradually sinking doorframe. Every single time Potter made the trip to his office he smacked his head and Draco never ceased to find it humorous, despite the fact that he firmly believed that the man really should have figured out by now that all he needed to do was gauge the length before him and simply duck.

 

"You're joking right?" Potter swung his gaze to Draco as he bent his knees and stepped inside.

 

"Quite serious I assure you." Draco plucked a squat glass jar from the top shelf and softly shut the door.

 

Potter looked at the items littering his otherwise pristine desk and rubbed once more at his head, his facial muscles going tight in the way they only ever did when he was near the point of physically lashing out at him. Not that he had ever actually struck Draco but the Dark Artifacts Specialist had seen the look more times than he could count - the darkening irises, the hard lines, and a twitch in his neck...

 

"You left me. Again! I told you that -"

 

"Yes, yes." Draco uncorked the bottle and sprinkled a fine layer of the deep orange powder over the waters glimmering surface. "That you'd have me, what was it?" He paused and furrowed his brow in thought, the powder bubbling below a rise of steam before dissolving completely away. "Oh yes, strung up and whipped till an inch of my life, correct? Though I don't think that's entirely legal so you may want to reconsider your choice of retribution for being left in a sunny, flower specked field that took you probably not even a minute to leave after I did." The steam cleared, leaving nothing but clear water once more and Draco conjured an hour glass, flipping it over atop the wood and watching with satisfaction as the sand began to flow.

 

Potter's hands formed a fist at his side as he stepped closer. "That's not the point and you know it. You can't keep doing that!"

 

"Leash the lion Potter, you're fine, I'm fine, get over it." Draco sunk down into his chair, the buildup of energy from the possible breakthrough making him tap his foot against the hard cold floor.

 

"You! You're...I don't know why I put up with you." He glowered but didn't move from his spot, his green eyes ablaze.

 

"Then go elsewhere, as I've stated previously there are two others just as qualified to deal with you." Draco bit back, finding a thrill lace up his spine as Potter stomped nearer, sending his desk rattling from the force of it.

 

"You mean Luckwood? She's...alright but Henry is just creepy." Potter flipped his hand in a gesture that Draco knew he had picked up from spending too much time working with him, his own pale fingers reaching out to steady the hourglass from Potter's outbreak of energy.

 

"Who's Henry?" He asked with a wrinkled brow.

 

"You know Henry, Henry Cobble?" Potter looked taken-aback, the hard lines softening a fraction on the left side of his face.

 

Draco frowned at it. "You call Cobble by his first name?"

 

Potter shifted and ran a hand through his hair till he was gripping the nape of his neck. "Yeah well, he asked me too."

 

"And you could understand him? I didn't think that was possible." Draco said more to himself than anything before snapping out of his train of thought and swiveling in his chair to face Potter fully as the man rapped his knuckles against the desk - a chuckle escaping from the corner of one side of Potter's mouth for a split second before he clamped his lips shut with a firm glare.

 

"No. You are not going to distract me. You can't keep doing this Malfoy, you can't keep leaving me no matter how sunny the damn field is. It's against code."

 

"Code?" Draco lifted an eyebrow, scoffing at Potter's weak argument. "It just pisses you off."

 

"Damn right it pisses me off! Last month in the warehouse, remember that? We were moving those potions and then you were just gone, making it upend on me. And trust me, the pink eyebrows were the least of my concern that week! And I don't want to hear about the brilliant flash of genius you had that you simply had to rush back to your office to work through."

 

"But I am genius. Now if you'd please vacate my office, I have work to do." Draco replied, Potter's gaze following his down to his desk where the last grain of sand was slipping through the glass tunnel.

 

"Oh like hell, you're going to show me what was so important you couldn't wait a damn second." Potter yanked him out of his chair with a firm hand on his forearm before slipping around him and falling backwards into the soft seat, looking smug and oh so pleased with himself - his grass streaked arms crossed over his chest and his thick black eyebrow cocked in a sign of impatient anticipation. "Wow me with your genius." He said with a smirk.

 

Draco's stomach knotted, his gray eyes aglow in what Pansy termed his I'm going to sick my bodyguards on you look. Of course he didn't have bodyguards anymore, he was a grown man with a respectable job that unfortunately forced him to work with the likes of thick headed morons like Potter and Weasley on a nearly daily basis. Though his old friend would point out that that in essence made Potter his bodyguard and that always served to put him in a mood - actually anything Pansy said involving Potter tended to put him in a mood but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

 

The point was Potter was sitting in his chair with his feet planted firmly on the ground and an insulting little smile on his lips and Draco felt compelled for some reason to rub at the spot on his arm that he had grabbed. It was probably going to be bruised in the morning, honestly what was Potter thinking, yanking him around so roughly. Or at all really, because he was pretty sure yanking co-workers was strictly on the 'no' list of proper office conduct.

 

Though Potter didn't seem to abide by silly things such as rules ever, least of all office protocol. He was constantly grabbing Draco and tugging him along and snipping biting retorts his way. Like they were in school...or not because back then Potter would have punched him instead of just taking his chair.

 

"Keep your mouth shut and just sit there if you must." Draco tugged the knot of his tie down until he could pull it off over his head, the silky black material hitting Potter square in the chest as he took his time rolling up his sleeves in careful folds to his elbows.

 

"Is this part of the genius process then? Looking the part?" Potter snickered, picking up the blondes tie from his lap and winding it through his fingers.

 

Draco ignored him until his sleeves were situated exactly where he desired them and then continued to pretend that Potter wasn't ruining his tie with his rough touch as he flicked his wand and watched as the disc floated out of its box, hovering in the air - still and menacing in its innocent beauty. With an intake of air he carefully positioned it directly over the silver basin, easing it down into the watery depths in such a slow deliberate movement that the smooth surface barely moved.

 

"Is that-"

 

Draco shot him a glare, Potter's lips snapping firmly shut just as the disc settled gently against the bottom with soft clink. He felt his breath rise in his chest and stick there as he lifted his wand, passing it evenly and slowly over the basin three times. He let it out as he laid his wand down on the desk, the water shimmering like something was heating it from the bottom. The office was deafeningly quiet as they both stared into the bowl, waiting for what seemed like hours but could have only been minutes until Draco felt the crushing stirrings in his soul with the realization that this had just been another dead end when something happened.

 

It was small at first. Barely noticeable tendrils of black curling from under the submerged disk, reaching upwards like tentacles searching for something. There were eight thin wavering arms, black as night, curling back in on itself just before it could breach the water's surface. Then the basin began vibrating and Draco vaguely registered Potter's sharp intake of breath and his solid presence suddenly right beside him.

 

He lifted his wand and began casting, gray eyes intent on the tentacles and the ripples in the water, a strange impression taking up residence in Draco's mind that he couldn't shift. It seemed like the basin and water and even his hand above it were...screaming. Nothing audible in the room but their breathing but still it felt like a screaming shriek was piercing his very soul and Draco saw his hand start to shake, noticed the black was edging into his vision, took note of the tentacle that was somehow breaking above the water's surface despite the protective casing he had cast over it.

 

Reaching towards him, bending his back forward and pulling his head down without even touching him, then there was something tugging him backwards away from the scream that was beckoning him, a curse that sounded rather familiar, and a bright light and ear piercing crack that sent everything around him black in a rushing speed of sound.


	3. Chapter 3

Blinking green and bouncing red.

 

Like Christmas had thrown up all around him, that or...

 

"Get the fuck off me Potter." Draco croaked, his throat sore and scratchy for some reason he couldn't fathom, his vision slowly coming into sharper focus.

 

"I'm not on you, lie still Malfoy!" Potter snapped and Draco blinked at Weasley as he and his flaming hair stood up and backed away from them - shaking his head and mumbling something to himself.

 

He reached a hand that was shaking with the feeling that his bones were chattering against each other inside him out and swatted at Potter's fingers that were running along his forehead. The darker man's face contorted in concentration and there was a long deep gash running along his cheek - like a thick stripe of red paint. "You're over me, same thing you twit." He grumbled, taking inventory of his body, of his legs that felt heavy but there laid out straight before him, of his back pressed into a cold stone floor of...a hallway. The hallway just outside his office to be exact.

 

Why exactly was he lying on the floor in his hallway with Potter on all fours directly above him?

 

He tried to sit up and was greeted with a growl from Potter and a sudden but fierce headache.

 

"If you don't stop moving I will sit on you, you're injured you idiot." Potter scolded him, drawing his knees in closer to Draco's sides and balancing himself on them as he took the blondes face between his hands. "Now shut up, I have to concentrate."

 

Draco scowled and pressed his lips together in a firm line as Potter's screwed his eyes shut and started mumbling, a wash of magic driving into him like a rampant elephant. It bloody hurt and Potter's fingers were digging into his temple like little daggers but then the pain was flowing away, falling like a crumbling wall from around his head and suddenly Draco gasped - realizing belatedly that he hadn't been able to think or draw a proper breath until that very moment that Potter stopped mumbling and popped his eyes back open with a question ready on his lips and a look of concern in his eyes.

 

Which was odd...Potter wasn't supposed to look at him like that. Must have been his hero complex replacing his compulsive tendencies towards him.

 

Then he remembered.

 

"Potter you imbecile!" He shrieked, shattering the kindness in Potter's eyes in an instant as he reeled back until he was sitting on Draco's thighs and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

 

"Oh nice Malfoy, you're welcome by the way." He grumbled.

 

"For what!" Draco demanded. "Merlin, tell me Potter that you didn't, please tell me that you didn't just bollocks everything up!" He pushed himself up onto his hands and tried to glance around the wild haired man that was still sitting on him to get a look at his office but all he could make out was his door - firmly shut with the insides shrouded in darkness.

 

"What?" Potter's look of indignant anger faltered as he glanced behind himself quickly. "I didn't - what? That thing almost killed you!"

 

Draco nodded and waved that little detail away with a flick of his hand. "Almost, Potter." He pointed out.

 

"Yeah because I stopped it. God Malfoy-" Potter glared. "Can you believe this?" He turned to Weasley who was leaning rather nonchalantly against the wall like his partner and their analyst weren't screaming at each other on the floor at his feet. Then again it wasn't like it was the first time something like this had happened...

 

Weasley shrugged, looking between them with that damn little smile of his. "Dunno Harry, you did kind of destroy his office."

 

"You destroyed my office!" Draco roared, shoving at Potter's shoulder until he tipped sideways and Draco could scramble up off the floor, the hall swaying dizzily as he stumbled, forcing him to press his hands and forehead into the wall as he waited for everything to slow and for his stomach to stop threatening to empty itself.

 

"Stop moving!" Potter snapped loudly from behind him.

 

"Stop shouting!" Draco countered, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed his head firmly into the wall. Merlin what exactly had Potter saved him from? No matter how hard he tried it was still all fuzzy. He could remember the tentacles, the screaming, the ache, the need to push his head into the water...then an explosion? Damn Potter, why did he always have to blow everything up with his insane magic that sparked wild when he went into savior mode? If he had harmed the disk...

 

"Oh god." He groaned, banging his fist against the wall as the closest thing he had to a breakthrough in the case had most likely just slipped through his fingers. "Potter come here."

 

"Why, are you okay?" Potter sounded concerned but skeptical, his presence at Draco's back in a flash with his hand on his side like he was worried he was going to fall over and he needed to be prepared to catch him. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

 

"No you prat I want to hit you." Draco grumbled. "Just move this way an inch or so." Draco twitched his fingers against the wall, shifting till his side was leaning against the hard surface, grateful when the ground stayed where it was and his stomach didn't lurch.

 

"So you can hit me? I don't think so."

 

"Don't be a git." Draco sneered, pushing the hair away from his face and straightening once more to his full height.

 

"How does not letting you sock me make me a git?"

 

"Because this is all your fault remember."

 

Potter huffed, crossing his arms over his tee shirt clad chest once more. "Malfoy-"

 

"Potter-" Draco mimicked his tone, the tightly bound word slipping past their lips at nearly the same moment. He knew it by heart anyway, knew the stalemate they were in very intimately. It seemed to happen quite frequently with them, sometimes over silly things, sometimes over tremendously important things but it always, always ended like this.

 

They could glare at each other for hours. Potter's green eyes would darken dangerously, Draco's own gray ones would ice over like pools of winter frost and then...

 

"Okay enough." Weasley sighed, pushing off the wall himself and turning his back to Draco's office. "Just tell him Harry."

 

"Tell me what?" Draco asked, his entire body tensing in an instant.

 

Potter flushed and looked at his feet as he shuffled them against the ground, kicking at imaginary specks of dirt. "Er, yeah...well Malfoy the thing is..."

 

"Oh my god, you did blow it up didn't you?" Leave it to Potter to set off an explosion that actually destroyed a previously invincible dark artifact.

 

"Umm, yeah." Potter confessed, finally lifting his guilty but determined looking eyes to meet Draco's. "But I didn't have much of a choice and I didn't...I mean...I didn't...not on purpose."

 

"How do you accidentally blow something like that up?!" Draco demanded, not really expecting an answer because well, Potter never had an answer to why things like that happened. It was like the time they had been out in a field when the wizard Potter had been hunting decided to spring his trap, ensnaring Draco in its web - only to find himself free from it moments later and standing in a crater instead...how Potter had managed that without blasting Draco to bits of flesh and bone still eluded him. Potter had looked wild then, his finger nails digging into Draco's arm and refusing to let go until the Healers had pronounced him untouched. Except for the marks Potter's grip left anyway, those bruises had lingered for weeks.

 

"I don't know." Potter shrugged. "I got...carried away I guess."

 

"That means he was scared out of his bloody mind." Weasley piped in, stepping up beside Draco with a lopsided grin that had Potter immediately frowning at him.

 

"Ron!" He glared.

 

"Well it's true. You get all uncontrollable when you're worried. You must have gotten him fucking terrified Malfoy, I heard it all the way in our office. You looked like a rag doll when he carried you out mind you." Weasley informed them.

 

Draco flushed and avoided Potter's gaze just as admittedly as Potter was avoiding his, refusing to think how that must have looked, him unconscious in Potter's arms before he was laid on the floor - which explained why Potter was hovering over him like a damn cat. He couldn't be sure but the whole thing just sat with him wrong, making something hot prick at the base of his neck and run up his cheeks and down his spine at the same time.

 

"And you can't go back in your office until the Unspeakable's have had a chance to go over it." Weasley continued, drawing Draco's attention with a quick snap.

 

Damn Unspeakable's, he hated having to work with them. They creeped him out in their starched black robes and their 'no, I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you sir, just hand it over and we'll be on our way'. Not to mention they took forever to do anything. He'd be office less for ages...

 

"You can share ours though until their done," Weasley said, slapping Draco on the back like that made everything okay. Like his office wasn't most likely leaking Dark Magic everywhere. Like the disk hadn't been destroyed. Like Potter had never gone unhinged by the smallest hint of Draco being hurt.

 

He glanced up and caught Potter's gaze, his eyes the deep forest green they got whenever he was fighting something inside himself. They glistened at him and with a growl and for no other reason than to deal out some retribution of his own he reached forward and snatched Potter's glasses from his nose. Jamming them into his pocket before turning on his heels and marching down the hall.

 

His hand stinging where the frames dug into his palm.

 

****

 

The alcohol burned as it slipped down his throat, a pleasant heat that was steadily taking the edge off his aggravated nerves that were positively itching in their intensity.

 

Merlin he hated feeling this way. It made him think of dark hallways and vanishing cabinets that just wouldn't fix and fire burning red and licking at his ankles. He couldn't even properly pinpoint what was making him so distraught, so on edge. It was a massive jumble, a ball that had started rolling a few days ago and snowballing to the disk being destroyed along with his office (his lovely, pristine, perfectly organized office). Now it was all crashing into him, knocking him off his feet and stealing the air from his lungs (not to mention that the Unspeakable’s were shifting through his things, ALL his things).

 

He couldn't stand that he had been set back in the case, that the lead was dead. He felt like he was standing on the brink of a gigantic failure that he’d be forever grasping at it, the answer just out of reach as people kept dying and that look in Potter's eye got more pronounced until the Auror cracked completely. He didn't want to see the day when the man finally succumbed to his hero complex and crumbled from the weight.

 

The disk was going to plague him until he solved it and now...well now he didn't even have it anymore. What kind of bloody luck was that?

 

Oh that's right, he didn't have any. Lady luck was a bitch.

 

"You're brooding again." Pansy sighed dramatically, swirling her martin in the wide tilting glass. "Rather a mood killer."

 

Draco lifted his eyes indifferently to her before throwing back the rest of his gin in one go. "And what mood would that be?"

 

Pansy shifted in the vinyl covered booth, her bare legs squeaking against the black seat, her gaze darting around the crowed club. "Brash. And muggle." She drawled out in disgust. "Remind me why we come here?"

 

Leaning back in the booth, Draco tipped his empty glass at the waitress hovering nearby with a tray of drinks balanced on her palm and shrugged. "Go home then."

 

Pansy blew out an air of bored dismissal. "To my lump of a husband? I think not." She crossed her arms under her ample, scantily clad bosom, her pink painted lips pouting as they tended to do when they spoke of Lenard - her elderly husband who was filthy rich and so near death that he had absolutely no clue what to do with the wife he had rushed into marrying. "Besides what kind of friend would I be if I up and left you in such a state?"

 

"The usual kind." Draco retorted.

 

"Still, when one's invited-"

 

"I didn't invite you." He corrected, gazing lazily back at her withering look she shot him. "You popped through my Floo just as I was leaving and latched yourself onto my arm like you typically do."

 

"Regardless," she said pointedly, "you’re in your mood and I knew you needed me. I sensed it."

 

"Sure Pans." He muttered, letting his gaze drift over the dim dance floor like it had been doing for the last hour or so, like it was trying to pick out something that wasn't there. It was crowded, the music pulsing a beat that the mass of bodies seemed glued to, moving and bending and withering to its time. It was full of indecent grinding and wandering hands and lips that were locked in kisses that most assuredly shouldn't have been happening in public. He didn't know why he kept looking, why he kept coming to this particular club after a particularity long and stressful day of work. Why he sought this place out when Potter simply wouldn't get out of his damn head.

 

He just...needed it.

 

"He's not out there." She said in clear amusement, sipping her drink and giving Draco her I know what you’re thinking look.

 

He shifted in his seat and barely noticed the newly filled glass that he was lifting to his lips moments after the waitress set it down on the wooden table top. "Who's not?" He asked, licking the gin from his lips and pushing a hand through his hair. The locks felt thicker than normal, not nearly as soft and silky as he always maintained it. Must have been all the running from the blasted children and then...well, almost getting blown up. He probably should have done something about his rumpled appearance before coming out.

 

But he had been feeling too high strung when he had finally left work, the idea of getting good and drunk the only thing penetrating his brain.

 

"Potter." She stated, smirking a bit too knowingly for Draco's liking.

 

His throat tightened, his jaw tensed, and his eyes slid down to narrowed slits. "Pardon?" He demanded more than asked, something that felt like his heart trying to break free from its cage thumping, thumping, thumping against his chest in a rhythm that made his blood start it's humming back up, cracking his nerves once more. He was here to forget work, Pansy ought to have known that by now.

 

"You know Harry Potter, celebrated Auror, likes to drag you around the country for some reason."

 

"It's my job." Draco ground out, his hand clenching around his glass. He really didn't need this now, didn't need to talk or even think about Potter, not while he was trying to decompress from his terrible day.

 

Pansy shook her head, blinking with an almost sad well aren't you clueless air. "No dear, your job is to poke about with dark artifacts and send him the reports."

 

"And you'd know this with all your experience being a rich man's kept women would you?" Draco lifted an eyebrow, frowning when she simply smiled back at him.

 

"Yes I do live a glamorous life don't I?" She winked, took a drink, and purposely set the glass back down - Draco's stomach constricting at the little action. Damn it, she was in her let's fix Draco's life mood, he knew he should have felt her on his stoop in her little black dress. "But we're not talking about me."

 

"And what exactly are we talking about then?" He shouldn't have asked, he knew that the moment the words were out of his mouth. He should have just gotten up, slipped onto the dance floor and proceeded to lose himself in the night like he had been planning on before she ruined his finely laid plans.

 

"You." She flipped her dark hair off her neck and let her heavy gaze lay on him. "Or more precisely you waiting for Harry Potter to walk through that door."

 

Draco sucked in a breath through his nose and looked back towards the dance floor, his eyes seeking out the couple with their hands on each other’s hips and his lips on his partners neck, the smaller of the two men with his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open. One was dark skinned, blending into the night, the other almost as pale as himself. They were rather intoxicating to look at. They looked enraptured, unaware of the press around them or Draco's gaze among who knew how many others on them. When he flicked his eye's back to Pansy he knew he looked blank, smooth like wax before any heat could mar it.

 

"Potter doesn't come here and nor do I want him to." He pushed his hair away again and toyed with his glass. "The prat would rather kill the night don't you think?"

 

Pansy pursed her lips, staring him down with an intensity that made him want to shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Oh? And so the man that comes in here looking exactly like him is just his twin then? His poor muggle doppelganger. Some sad sod named Barry Lotter perchance?"

 

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I don't know who or what you're talking about."

 

"Let me remind you then." She leaned forward, her finger drawing through the condensation rings on the table. "He comes in late, downs two shots at the bar, then one way or another ends up -"

 

"Pansy." There was a heat curling up his spine, a twisting in his stomach, her lowly pointed words painting pictures and sensation inside him that was making his breath draw more deeply in his chest. He didn't know how she knew these things, not when she had only been with him once...when he...it didn't matter anyway. She had it wrong. Very, very wrong. "You're mistaken."

 

"So you're saying the black haired, green eyed, atrociously dressed man at the bar right now is definitely not Harry Potter then?" She lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow and stared.

 

Draco very purposely didn't look, didn't let his eyes shift the fraction they needed to, to see the long bar and who might or might not be leaning against it. He fought against the near undeniable urge and won, his hand too tight on his glass and his back as straight as a strip of lumber. "I don't know what you’re playing at but stop." He seethed, wondering how this always seemed to happen with them, how she always managed to bring the topic around to his insufferable co-worker.

 

"It's not me who’s playing sweetie." She retorted with a mild mannered shrug. "But I suppose we're each entitled to our secrets."

 

"Mhmm why don't I believe that?" He stuck the lime wedge from his glass in between his lips, sucking the gin soaked tartness from its fibers with a thick swallow, his gaze betraying him as they darted towards the bar - landing on a man with wild inky hair combed in disastrous curls over his unobstructed green eyes, a small smile on his full pink lips, a soft looking green shirt fitted over his torso and a pair of raggedy jeans that slipped a tad too low on his hips...

 

Draco's lungs constricted as the man turned, lifting a shot glass to his lips filled with a dark amber color and threw it back without a care, his gaze drifting over the room. He looked away quickly and found Pansy smirking at him.

 

"Barry's cute isn't he?" She said cheekily.

 

"Perhaps you should go ask him for a dance then." He bit back, annoyed when the glass he pressed to his lips only let out a small dribble of gin over his tongue. "Bugger." He grumbled, setting it a bit too harshly back down.

 

"Can't, married woman remember." She flashed him her atrociously huge diamond ring.

 

"Like that ever stops you."

 

"To true, but alas I don't believe I'm his type. He seems to like them blonde and fit and well...male."

 

"Know Barry quite well do you?" He drawled, resting his arm over the back of the booth in an attempt to calm down the storm that was starting to whip back up inside him. Damn it, there went any amount of relaxation he had managed to achieve, leave it to...Barry....to fuck it all up. Or maybe this time it was more Pansy's fault and her insinuations.

 

"One might say..." She glanced over her shoulder and tisked loudly. "Oh dear, that's shot number three, poor man must have had an awful day. Think he might have accidentally set something on fire?"

 

Draco refused to look again, to watch him lick his lips as he returned the glass to the counter, his hand unconsciously reaching into his pocket to finger the spectacles digging into his thigh. He had meant to leave them in Potter's office at the end of the day but for some completely unexplainable reason he found that he didn't want to. He just kept...touching them. Sliding his fingers over the perfectly round frames, skipping over the smooth lenses as he sat in Damaris's office and tried to document what had happened with the disk before it had gotten blown up.

 

He had gripped the frames so tightly he was surprised he didn't snap them as he had stared at his own hand writing, as he tried to think back before it all went black, trying to force himself to make any sort of connection, to remember anything of value that he could latch onto and continue his research.

 

All for not.

 

Then he had left, glasses still in his pocket, Potter probably walking around bumping into every possible thing in his state of blindness. He was rather surprised he hadn't tried to retrieve them once it became clear that Draco wasn't going to return them. Then again that could have been because of the hexes he had thrown at him the moment Potter had poked his head in Damaris's office.

 

"Draco-"

 

"I need to use the loo." He muttered before Pansy could finish whatever nonsense she was about to spit out, slipping from his seat and winding his way through the thick throng of bodies.

 

It felt all too familiar - his feet against the floor that was sticky from sloshed drinks, the sound of men laughing and women giggling, the door that was grimy from never being properly cleaned. The alcohol in his blood buzzed in his head and the water in the sink felt icy as he turned the faucet on and stuck his hands under the flow. He listened to the only other occupant grunt, pull up his trousers, and leave without washing. The door opened and closed and then opened and closed again.

 

He stopped then.

 

His hands hovering near the water, dripping their own drops down, his fingers much too cold. He wondered how he always ended up here, how he knew what he would see when he lifted his eyes to the mirror before him. His heart thumped, his throat felt sticky and thick. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for this yet...

 

The first time, so many months ago now, he hadn't even known...not until it was too late, not until the man who had been withering in his arms, rubbing his arse into his crotch, finally turned fully.

 

Not until he saw the eyes that went along with the wild hair that had been tickling his neck and chin.

 

He should have known, perhaps a part of him did, and yet it was a shock when those eyes blinked up at him, when those pink lips dropped in drunken recognition. That's when he should have stopped it. That's when he should have pulled back and ran. That's when he should have done anything but groan like he did when the man in his arms grabbed his arse, placed his face in the crook of his neck, and ground his hips into his.

 

A boot squeaked on the floor and with a caught breath Draco slowly let his graze drift up - past his own reflection and over to the one standing just inside the door, those green eyes darkened and burning into him.

 

They didn't talk. They never did. And then Monday morning would come and it would be as if...

 

Barry fucking Lotter indeed.

 

He turned the tap and let his wet hands grip the edge of the sink as he turned and leaned back against it. He knew his heart was pounding in his chest, just like it always did, knew the heat in his body wasn't solely or even mostly from the drinks he had consumed. Draco came to the club to drown out the stress of the job and so did he it seemed.

 

A funny twist that they found their release like this. Like strangers when they never would be.

 

The silence stretched and stretched, a hand jiggled the knob on the other side of the door for a moment before there was a loud curse and a stumbling body down the hall that they couldn't see. This moment, before either of them moved, was always the part that stuck in Draco's mind the longest, the part that refused to leave him even when he shed his skin from the night - when he stripped and washed away the remains of...

 

It lingered. The look in those eyes stuck in his mind until he strode into work and snapped his biting remarks and heard him yell back.

 

Draco watched. Watched those hands push away his dark hair, those lips part just slightly before he sucked in his bottom one between his teeth only to release it red and wet. He looked shy and hard, beckoning and fierce. And Draco listened. He listened to the thump of boots on the ground as he gripped the sink and the other moved closer, listened to someone's breathing that was starting to grow deeper.

 

Whether his own or the other man's, he didn't know. Maybe it was both of them.

 

The man stopped too close to him, smelling of whiskey and soap, his lips parted as if he was going to lean in and...he wouldn't. Neither of them ever did.

 

Then everything sped back up and Draco watched as the man dropped to his knees on the filthy floor, hands that were bigger and darker than his stretching up and running down his stomach that jumped under the touch before those fingers were on his belt. Swiftly and deftly undoing the clasp as he pressed an open mouthed kiss against Draco's crotch, the rest of the blood that had been refusing to flow lower rushing south in an instant. It should have been embarrassing how quickly he always got hard in these encounters, how fast his pulse would start racing, how much he just...needed. He heard the man hum lowly as his trousers were spread open and his hard cock drawn out and all embarrassment was forgotten in that one little sound that gave the other man away just as completely.

 

He shut his eyes and bit his lip, his knuckles whitening on the sink's ledge.

 

There was no foreplay, no precedence to stand on. It was always like this. Always right to the point. Always fast and needy and...a perfect kind of oblivion.

 

Draco struggled not to make any noise as that pink mouth opened and wrapped around him, his cock enveloped in the wet, hot heat filled with suction and long licks. When he felt those lips stretch close to his root, heard the man choke and swallow, he bit back a curse and focused his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to look down. He held himself taut, felt his body string tight as pleasure rippled through him, losing himself in the feel and sound of his cock sliding in and out, in and out - sloppy, indecent noises, heavy breathing and groans that weren't coming from him as he bit harshly into his tongue, making liquid need pool in his gut.

 

He rose and rose and rose - every little problem in his personal life, the case, the destroyed disk, his damaged office, the pressure from his supervisor…from Potter, sinking further and further below him until they were only worthless pinpricks among a sea of stars.

 

He heard the sound of jeans clumsily opening, heard the man moan long and low and hotly, the sound traveling along his sensitive flesh. He heard the unmistakable tell of a fist pumping frantically as he crested, feeling the first tendrils of falling. He pushed aside the warning, the yelling in the back of his mind not to look down, and let his heavy eyes drop to the messy black head bobbing quickly, his knees spread out wide on the dirty floor, one hand tight on Draco's hip, the other moving quickly between his legs.

 

The sight nearly sent him tumbling over the edge.

 

"Shit." He gasped, even though it was against the unspoken rules, his muscles tightening as he pushed a hand into the black curls and tugged - drawing that mouth further down his hard length.

 

The man hummed and scooted closer, rising up a little on his knees, opening his mouth widely, the suction going lax.

 

Draco growled and gripped the soft hair with both hands, snapping his hips forward and seeing black spots edge into his vision as he jammed himself forward and back, feeling that hot tongue trying it's best to swirl around his length as he fucked the willing mouth. He felt his body curl with fiery desire, felt his head go light and bit into his lip until he tasted the coppery tang of blood, then the man was gasping and moaning around his mouthful - his entire body jerking as he came into his own fist.

 

Draco's mouth fell open around a silent shout as those green eyes blinked up at him, so very dark and languid and filled with...

 

He came hard. His fingers digging into the man's scalp, those raven curls tangled around his pale hand, his grasp keeping the man pressed against his crotch - forcing him to swallow quickly as Draco's vision went black then white, dazzling spots dancing all around him. When he finally floated back down, his heart beating hard and his breath coming with even more difficulty, he opened his eyes to see the dark head resting against his hip, the man's entire body slumped in exertion.

 

He could feel a smile on his thigh.

 

With a shaky intake, he withdrew his hands, letting them slip from the soft hair and back to the cold hard sink.

 

Now was the time to step back, to keep his eyes averted. To pretend that it didn't happen. Now was the time to go back to the real world. But he was stuck where he was and when the man finally tucked himself back away and rose to his feet he didn't turn away like he always did. He just stood there, Draco's eyes trained on his booted feet, his stance broad like he was vigilantly prepared for a fight as Draco fixed his own trousers.

 

Draco listened to him draw in a deep breath and then he felt fingers slipping into his pocket, the unexpected touch making his head jerk up. His gray eyes landing on unobstructed green for all but a moment before he was pushing his glasses onto his nose, a small smile on his swollen, wet lips. Draco stared, unable to move or breathe because the man before him had just ruined everything.

 

The spectacles he had nicked earlier were back in place on Potter's face and the man was looking so well fucked and uncaring, blinking at him for a moment with a twitching smile before he turned and left - leaving Draco grasping the sink for dear life, all the blood having drained from his face.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco stared at the open page before him without really seeing it - his vision blurring past the lines of small printed letters that formed sentences and paragraphs and...god he'd read that last part too many times to count and yet he couldn't even remember what it had said.

 

Something about...the use of dragon's blood within a...unicorns intestine?

 

Bugger it.

 

He snapped the ancient text shut, his fingertips slipping over the soft leather of it's binding as he held it in his lap. It was one of the few books he had taken with him when he had moved out of the Manor after the war trials had finished and he'd been miraculous exonerated all those years ago. He couldn't be sure why he had saved this particular volume, why he had snatched it from its looming shelf among hundreds of more obvious (and strictly legal) choices. He had never even read it, not completely, though not for lack of trying.

 

It reminded him of something though...his childhood perhaps. A book bound tight with yellowed curling pages and worn, frayed, black leather, filled to the breaking with potions and spells and blood magic that made a little sinking feeling prick his stomach each time he read it. It reminded him of his father. Of Lucius sitting poised behind his overly large, ornate desk, of his flowing white hair and hard lined features. It reminded him of being small and listening to his father's voice through a crack in the door with his ear pressed nearly to the ground to hear it. It stirred memories of white peacocks and chilly winters observed behind high glass windows and his mother and father discussing things he didn't understand in a warped code that they assumed he couldn't figure out.

 

It reminded him of things bygone.

 

Of the dead.

 

Funny how he only ever took it from its spot on his own bookshelf now when he was feeling like this, when he was feeling...despondent.

 

His fingers curled harshly around the edge of the old book as he gritted his teeth. He had been in a downward dragging mood all weekend, a feeling of foreboding resting heavy on his soul, a grimness that he just couldn't seem to shake. It enveloped him, making him glare too hard at the inanimate objects in his flat and burn his toast in the mornings and tip the decanter a little too heavily in the evenings. If he hadn't been above stomping around like a petulant child in a fit of anger he would have, he even felt it might have actually done some good, more than the blasted book had done anyway.

 

But Malfoy's didn't stomp. They brooded (and read about disgusting bits of magic apparently). And thus it was now Sunday evening and his weekend had dissolved away with absolutely nothing to show for it but sore facial muscles, the smell of burnt food in the kitchen, and a needed trip to the liquor store.

 

And Monday morning was almost upon him, bringing with it the unnecessary reminder of his devastated, uninhabitable office and the reality of facing Potter again - the insufferable git that he was. Draco could barely stand the idea of sharing the bespectacled idiot's and Weasley's cubical space but then that left him without a place to work - given the fact that he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate in Damaris's office with the permanent stench of cabbage and he didn't even bother considering asking Cobble to budge over for a few days.

 

He had a feeling the mumbling man might actually try to murder him if he even suggested it. So that left the blasted Auror's and their damn workspace.

 

A muscle twitched in his neck as it seemed rather keen on doing all weekend whenever his overactive brain wandered off track and over to Potter. It felt like something was trying to tighten in his lungs, pressing down and squeezing them from behind at the same time ever since Friday night when the door to the men's loo had closed behind Potter's retreating back.

 

And there in lied his problem.

 

He could still picture it - swollen lips, gasping moans, green eyes that blinked as the glasses found their rightful place - but it wasn't settling where it should. It wasn't slipping into its rightful place, his brain wasn't detaching Potter from that moment of carnal release like it had always done in the past. Instead the dark haired man was standing in the forefront with that damn cocky smile of his and his blasted wide stance like there was a dark wizard just over Draco's shoulder that he was about to duel and his foggy gaze that seemed stuck in that moment they had blinked up at him as Potter had...

 

Draco jerked to his feet, shoving the fragile book back into its place.

 

Fucking Potter, fucking everything up. What had he been thinking taking his...glasses back? Surely he could have lived without them for one weekend, surely whatever he had done to his vision while he was at the club could have sufficed until they saw each other at the Ministry. But no, the prat just had to steal them back from Draco's pocket while he could still taste the blonde on his tongue.

 

How was...why did...blast it.

 

He didn't like to think about Potter. He liked Potter to keep to the many boxes that were labeled clearly in his head. There was Hero Potter who had saved him and everyone else from a mad man, the Potter who liked the spotlight and would swoop down heroically whenever there was a hint of trouble. School Days Potter, who Draco still liked to think of as a dimwitted imbecile, perpetually scrawny in baggy old clothes and turning up his nose at perfectly acceptable handshakes. Work Potter, who Draco had somehow managed to get on somewhat...friendly?...terms with. And the man that resembled Potter but most importantly never actually acknowledged being him at the club, the man who soared high with Draco in frantic moments - the man that was gone before either of them could fully come back down.

 

The boxes were never supposed to burst open and mix. Draco knew this, knew it would bring nothing but pain and chaos into his life. Work Potter and School Days Potter would never get along, his younger self would probably whine constantly at him for even letting Draco step within ten feet of him, then he would sneer at the blonde and start stalking him and trying to convince everyone that he was up to something nefarious. Just like Hero Potter would never be able to face the Club Man without blanching and apologizing till he was blue in the face for using Draco and then maybe throwing up when faced with all that really entailed.

 

Boxes and lines were good. Course he really should have known that Potter would bollocks it all up, that he would blow it all out of the water in one ill planned moment just like he did when his magic and emotions got the best of him.

 

Dragging a hand through his already thoroughly mused hair (seeing as he couldn't seem to stop his damn hand from raking through it all day), he stalked out of his study and down the hall with a vague plan to empty the last of his whiskey into a tumbler and drown out the rest of the evening in an amber induced haze when there was a pulse rippling through his wards.

 

Someone was at the door.

 

Draco stopped cold and stared at the wall opposite him for a moment, considering his options. On one hand he could ignore it, it was probably just Pansy anyway, and continue on with his merry plan but on the other hand he could answer it, because it probably was Pansy and she never took well to being ignored, and have a distraction from his Potter swimming thoughts.

 

He hated Potter swimming around his head. Tended to make him dizzy in any case.

 

With a huff he abruptly switched directions and stomped (though just a little, not nearly enough to make it unbecoming) over to the front door, his hand flicking with the slightest of twitches as he neared it. That's when it all crashed to the floor at his feet and Draco let out a string of silent curses in his head. Because the door had swung open and standing on his stoop with a hand raised in the air in an aborted attempt at a knock was not Pansy in one of her scandalously tight dresses with a grand idea to go get sloshed but bloody Potter.

 

Potter with his damn hair blowing about his grimly set face, a fitted black leather jacket hugging his upper body with mud splattered jeans that somehow seemed both too big and too tight cladding the rest of him.

 

What was it with Potter and jeans lately? Had the man completely forgone all wizard attire? Had he simply decided that jeans made his arse look the best and now everyone was going to be forced to endure him squeezed into the fitted denim every damn day now?

 

Potter blinked, adjusting his glasses with a light touch as his hand fell back to his side. "Malfoy-"

 

"Are you lost?" Draco snapped, his eyes narrowing, something inside him kicking into gear at the sound of Potter's rough voice. 

 

Potter's face screwed up into something that resembled a grimace, confusion and agitation coloring his features. "What, no. Malfoy -"

 

"It's Sunday Potter." Draco interrupted him again, his hand finding the edge of the door and grasping it, squeezing the wood between his fingers in a hold that was probably much tighter than was strictly necessary. But he couldn't help it, the boxes were blown up, slivers of wood scattered dangerously all around him. One false step and it would sink into his heel and then he'd never be able to put everything back into its rightful place.

 

"Erm yeah? But that's-"

 

"It's Sunday, not a work day. So whatever it is that you had to muddy your trousers for in such a rush to get here can wait." Draco sneered, ignoring the angry twitch in Potter's jaw and the hardening of his eyes. "Until Monday at the office." He finished, taking a smooth step backwards and preparing to snap the door shut between them.

 

"It can't wait!" Potter exclaimed, knocking the door back open with his elbow. "There's been another attack."

 

"Fascinating." Draco drawled before pushing on the wood, Potter's own arm keeping the thing from budging more than an inch. "Best scamper off then and investigate."

 

"Merlin you git, just come on, we're wasting time." He gave one hearty push and sent Draco stumbling back a step, Potter's hand shooting out and latching onto Draco's wrist and tugging him in the opposite direction he was very nearly about to fall.

 

"I'm not wasting anything," Draco clarified, staring in horror at Potter's slightly darker hand on his wrist. What the hell was Potter thinking, touching him? That's it, he was going to file an official complaint with Potter's head Monday morning - this was harassment! "Because I'm not going anywhere."

 

Potter didn't seem to notice Draco trying desperately to pry his hand away, his fingers locked in a grip that really shouldn't have been so strong. He was too busy staring at Draco with a dark look that flicked up and down the former Slytherin's body for a split second before he changed tactics and started pushing him backwards into his flat. "You need to change."

 

"I need to what?" Draco sputtered, finally wrenching his arm free and glaring daggers at the man now standing in his foray.

 

"Change. You can't wear...that to the crime scene." Potter muttered, looking pointedly at Draco's black silk pajama bottoms that he hadn't bothered changing out of because well...what was the point really? There was no one to stand on occasion for in his own home on the weekend. "Do you have a leather jacket?" He asked, peering around Draco's shoulder like he could miraculously see into the man's wardrobe that way.

 

"Of course not." Draco snapped at the ridiculous question, why in the world would he own such a thing? Though then again, Potter did look rather fit in his, the black playing nicely against his pale skin and wild hair, the single silver button at his throat drawing his eye in a way that really shouldn't have. Draco knew Potter had a strong pulse there when he got excited, knew how that throat looked arched back and angled sharply with his lips dropped open in a gasp.

 

Fuck, Draco forced his gaze away and violently pushed the image back into the gaping box that it belonged in.

 

"No matter, never crashed before anyway."

 

"Crashed?" Draco repeated, unable to follow the trail of conversation Potter was skipping down at too quick a speed. He wasn't making any sense. "What the hell are you on about?"

 

"On my bike." He very unhelpfully clarified and then brushed right past Draco, starting down the wide hallway with a determined, long stride that forced Draco to nearly jog in order catch back up with him.

 

"On your...you know what? I don't care, just get out Potter."

 

Potter shook his head. "Would love to but first you need trousers." He paused and let his eyes slip over Draco's frame in a much slower progression this time. "And perhaps a different shirt." 

 

"What's wrong with my shirt?" Draco gaped, appalled at the suggestion.

 

Potter stopped in his tracks and fixed his gaze on Draco's torso, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. "Nothing but I don't want to have to explain to a bunch of muggles what quidditch is and what riding has to do with it."

 

Draco flushed and glanced down quickly before straightening his back and lifting his chin. "It was a gift." He grumbled, silently cursing Pansy and her crass humor and the fact that the lewd shirt - which not so covertly implied that he liked riding quidditch players over their brooms - was not only crimson but so incredibly soft that he often wore it on days he had absolutely nothing to do and knew no one would ever see him in it.

 

She was dead.

 

Potter let the grin stretch over his mouth then, a mischievous look in his eye. "Of course it was." Then he was spinning on his heel and marching once more down the hall, his voice casual when he called back at Draco without a single glance, "it's probably the other way around anyway."

 

Draco's step hitched, the tightness in his lungs squeezing further at the nonchalant comment, his mouth dropping open in an automatic...something. But it never came, partly because his brain was short circuiting as he frantically tried to keep the damaged box with The Club Man from breaking out and attacking Potter, and partly because said man had just disappeared into his bedroom.

 

Like he knew where it was. How the hell did Potter know where his bedroom was?

 

The moment he stepped foot into his room, his lips open around the biting retort that just wouldn't come, he was hit in the face with a pair of black trousers that were closely followed by a relaxed white button up shirt. He glowered as he snatched the clothes away from himself, holding the finely crafted clothing in his hands tightly. "Get out of my wardrobe!" He growled.

 

"Then get dressed." Potter snapped back. "We're late."

 

"You always say that." Draco felt his blood simmering, the image of Potter standing in the middle of his bedroom doing funny things to him. It looked odd. Potter was much too...Potter to fit properly in his private room. He clashed terribly with the...decor, or something. And why in the world did he look so damn big next to his bed? Or better yet why did his stupid gaze even flicker between the two? "And I'm not going anywhere."

 

Potter just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

"It's not my job!" He sneered. "I'm not your partner or even a bloody Auror, if there's a dark artifact then send it to me you imbecile."

 

"We found another disk." Potter, rather belatedly, explained, his eyes rounding in a way that said he really thought Draco was incredibly dense. "Stuck inside the girl’s cheek again."

 

He stopped short, whatever else he was about to say getting lodged in his throat as everything slimmed down and zeroed into a single pin prick of thought. "Water?" Draco heard himself asking, the anger and confusion from moments ago slipping away as his mind ticked into work mode.

 

Potter nodded. "Bathtub. Thought you'd want to see it up close this time. Might help with the case?"

 

Draco nodded absently, his mind whirling with possibilities, his voice a low mumble to himself in the quiet air as he tugged the slightly too tight crimson shirt over his head and sent it flying in a haphazard way. This was the sixth murder. The sixth disk...well his only disk most likely now since his office had been destroyed. And the body had been found in water again. It couldn't be a coincidence. That had to be the key to something.

 

"Muggle?" He shrugged the shirt on and in two fluid movements had his sleep pants at his feet and tugging his trousers onto his hips, vaguely noticing through the buzzing in his head the blush on Potter's cheeks and the way his gaze slid away much to abruptly when Draco looked up. There was only a moment of embarrassment at having changed in front of him before he was overrun with more theories and questions pressing forward, his brow furrowing as he did up his buttons and summoned his shoes.

 

"Yeah, Ron's questioning the boyfriend now. Wrong foot."

 

"Mhmm?" Draco looked up, carding a hand through his hair to get it out of his face.

 

"Your shoes. You put them on the wrong foot." Potter was staring bemusedly at him, his head cocked slightly, his bottom lip wet and red like he had been biting it.

 

Fixing his shoes, Draco turned and strode out of his bedroom, a checklist forming in his mind of the things he wanted to do when they got there when he remembered that he didn't know where they were going - his foot in mid turn in an aborted Disapparition that was very close to becoming a complete disaster with splinching and everything.

 

"You were going to do it again weren't you?" Potter was half smiling, half frowning at him from two paces away.

 

"No, of course not." Draco lied.

 

"Only because you don't know where we're going." Potter grumbled, pushing past him and leading their way out the door and down the little path to the street beyond. "I'm going to start fixing you with an anti-apparition collar whenever we go anywhere if you don't quit it."

 

"Would that be before or after the flogging then?"

 

"After."

 

"Sadist." Draco stopped, staring in incomprehension as Potter stepped up to a large black motorbike, his hand grasping the helmet dangling from the handle bar. "What is that?"

 

"My motorcycle." Potter answered, glancing between him and the bike then the helmet in his hand. He stared at the oddly shaped thing for a moment before flicking his wand and conjuring an identical duplicate - a smile on his lips as he held it out to Draco. "We can't Apparate in and it's not far so I'd thought we could...what?"

 

"You're joking right?" Draco balked, his arms stiff at his sides, leaving Potter with the two helmets and a deep frown. Well he supposed this explained the 'crashing' statement.

 

"No." He said slowly with that expression that broadcasted the fact that he thought Draco was being dense again. "Come on, just put it on, like a hat."

 

"I'm not riding on that thing." Draco curled up his lip at the black monstrosity of twisted metal. It looked like a death trap. An ugly, probably loud, death trap. Not to mention it barely looked big enough for the two of them and Draco had absolutely no intention of straddling a hunk of vibrating metal while hugging Potter's waist as they weaved in and out of muggle traffic.

 

"Why not? It's like a broom and you like those." He said, his expression taking on a rather strong leer towards the end.

 

Draco frowned. Blasted shirt, he was never going to live it down, he just knew it. "It was a gift." He ground out. "I don't-"

 

"Oh just get on, you know you're not going to not come." Potter tossed him the helmet and pulled his own on his head then promptly swung his leg over the machine, his thumb pressing down on something and his foot doing something else until it started rumbling like a sleeping dragon from between his legs.

 

It was unnerving, the motorcycle seeming alive and very, very dangerous.

 

It was also incredibly sexy and Draco had a fleeting thought that that was why muggles even had them in the first place. To get laid. Not that he was going to...nope, he didn't care that he could see Potter's thigh flex around the slanted metal like it probably would when he was...right.

 

With a firm glare and muttered curse, Draco donned the atrocious helmet, only mildly surprised when he could hear Potter's voice chuckling in his ear inside it as he slipped his leg over the seat and sat down. He had all of two seconds to adjust to the odd feeling and a simple warning of 'hold on' before Potter was kicking off and leaning forward, his wrist twisting and the bike jerking onto the road at top speed.

 

"Sweet Merlin." He gasped, his arms automatically winding around Potter's waist and holding on tight, effectively smashing his front to Potter's back in a much too close embrace. He felt the wind rush over them, their bodies forcing themselves through the air until it felt like a breathing wild things all around them - Potter leaning sharply with each turn, the muscles along his back and shoulders flexing and held tight, Draco's thigh's squeezing both the bike and the back of Potter's legs.

 

After the initial shock - when he pried his eyes back open after the near certain death he was sure was about to come when they came this close to a massive truck to find themselves still alive, still moving at a breaking speed with Potter's leisurely breath drawing his stomach in and out beneath Draco's fingers - he decided that it was all rather exhilarating. It was like riding a broom, low to the ground and around other twisted hunks of metal sure, but it had the feel of flying, of letting go - just him and the wind.

 

He loosened his grip on Potter, lifted his chin up, and felt a smile tugging at his lips. He hadn't flown in years, hadn't allowed himself the luxury after the war had ended. Perhaps it had been his own little penance when the trials had decided he needn't pay anything. But Draco knew better than that, he knew he hadn't been a complete innocent in it all. Sure he had been a child, sure he had been terrified and coerced into most of it, but it had still all been him doing it. Giving up the liberation that only flying could bring had seemed like a natural punishment - it fit his crimes.

 

A not quite Death Eater, but branded none the less, doomed to walk the earth. Poetic justice it had seemed at the time.

 

He let out a harsh laugh and holding Potter tight with one arm, reached up and whipped his helmet off - uncaring of the muggles all around him as he vanished it without a thought. The wind cut across his face, sharp and warm, lifting his hair in a tornado around his head. But it wasn't quite enough, now that he had had a taste he wanted more, he needed more, needed to feel his stomach plummet as they sped forward, needed to feel the ride in the very marrow of his being.

 

It wasn't necessarily a conscious decision as he gripped Potter's own helmet and sent it off to the place all vanished things went to lie unused forever but the moment it was gone he knew what his intention had been. He could see Potter now, the back of his head, the curve of his wrist under the leather jacket, his hand reached out in front of him as if there really was a snitch nearby that they were competing for. He caught Potter's eye for the briefest of seconds as he turned his head just a fraction with a questioning look before he pressed his lips close to Potter's ear so the man could hear him above the roar of the engine and wind.

 

"This the best you can do?" He shouted with black hair tickling his face, his lips brushing Potter's skin and filling his palate with a taste that seemed all too familiar.

 

He felt more than heard Potter's answering laugh rumbling through them both, a deep vibration that seemed almost a part of the wind around them and the bike beneath them. Not a second later Potter was pressing forward, a tingle of magic washing over them moments before the spinning tires left the ground and Draco let out a gasp as they shot towards the sky - the world falling away behind them in a blur of colors that he couldn't be bothered enough to notice.

 

Not with the white clouds before them and the deafening drone of the air and the smell of Potter all around him. He grinned and held on tighter, forgetting for a moment that they were flying towards a crime scene that was a part of a case that was quickly spiraling out of control - forgetting that Potter was leaping from Draco's carefully constructed boxes and merging into a disastrous, mangled, reality.


	5. Chapter 5

The touch of solid ground brought reality quickly snapping back into focus.

 

They landed much smoother then Draco would have expected, the disillusionment charm melting away as they turned onto the empty neighborhood street - rows and rows of white picket houses with matching gray doors and manicured green lawns. It felt almost like walking into a picture, everything perfectly sculpted, meticulously kept, but there was something wrong with it all. Something very, very wrong. It was hard to place his finger on it with his head still as light as the clouds they'd been soaring through but as they slowed to a crawl before an identical house to all its neighbors, Draco realized what it was.

 

It was early Sunday evening, the sun still warm in the sky, but there wasn't so much as a flicker of a curtain at any of the windows looking out at the street. Everything was still, almost as if time had been run forward then stopped - holding the muggle's in the neighborhood captive. Plucking the children from the lawns, the father's from their vehicles, and the mother's from the dinner that normally would be getting set on the table about now.

 

He had the strangest feeling that they had slipped inside an hourglass and nothing would be returned to its rightful place and time until the last of the sand dropped through the glass tunnel. But something was suspending it, holding that last trickle captive.

 

Draco's legs felt like jelly as he slipped from the motorbike, his hair mused beyond repair about his flushed face and standing in stark defiance to the hard lined features that he carefully arranged the moment Weasley stepped out of the front door and caught sight of them with a knowing little smirk. He was dressed how he assumed Potter should have been, wearing the black trousers, white button up, and black tie that was commonplace whenever they were dealing with muggles on a case - his shoulder length fiery hair pulled back into a low pony tail at the base of his neck, one hand clutching a half-eaten sandwich and the other a nearly bursting file.

 

"I would ask what took so long but I really don't see the point." Weasley chuckled as he neared them, handing Potter the thick file as the black haired man shut off the engine and dismounted. 

 

"Malfoy was being obstinate." Potter answered anyway as Draco frowned, staring up at the looming, silent house - a house that shouldn't have been so still considering the murder that had taken place inside. The death of a body, the bursting forth of a soul to a place unknown always left a mark, a stench, a creeping feeling that crawled up Draco's skin. He knew what standing on the fringe of someone's death felt like, he'd experienced it often enough during the war, and this wasn't it.

 

"Well perhaps Potter, you should learn how to properly begin conversations. For example instead of just proclaiming that there was an attack and that I needed to change you should have lead with: another disk has been found and we need your brilliant mind to come and have a look." Draco drawled, still not looking at either of them as he began moving up the walkway, purple and yellow flowers lining the path on either side.

 

"So the usual." Weasley answered, the sound of their feet following him up the walk. Then a pause and, "did you fly?"

 

"Erm yeah." Potter sounded as if he'd been caught with his pants about his ankles and Draco didn't have to turn to know that on top of him looking like he'd just been spat out of a hurricane that his cheeks would be flushed with a faint pink and that he would have just shoved his hands into his pockets in a nervous twitch. He didn't stay around to hear Weasley's laughing reply or even question why Potter should be embarrassed of that fact - they had gotten here, hadn't they? - instead he put his hand on the bronze doorknob and twisted, the door swinging silently inward.

 

If the street had felt like suspended twilight, the house felt like time had frozen completely still, an open tomb with nothing inside. The very air seemed still and waiting, a patch of dust floating in the right hand corner like it had been disturbed earlier but was unable to settle - forced to just hover there like particles in ice. Draco's spine stiffened, something familiar about it all pricking at his conscious as he stepped foot past the threshold.

 

The hallway was a rosy pink and lined on either side with neat little photographs of a smiling blonde woman with two sets of pearly white teeth and a tall, tawny haired man with copious amounts of brown freckles marring his otherwise handsome face. They looked young, in their early twenties most likely, too young to have had their life ripped away from them anyway.

 

Not that there was ever a good time for something like that.

 

Draco frowned at the photo with the woman sitting in the man's lap, clearly laughing even though the picture remained still and silent. They didn't look much younger than him come to think of it...

 

"Where's the boyfriend then?" Potter came to a stop beside him, his fingers carefully flicking through the file Weasley had relinquished into his care.

 

"Muggle police took him in for questioning." Weasley answered through a mouthful of turkey and salami, the man's eating habits never ceasing to amaze him.

 

Potter nodded in the corner of Draco's vision as he continued to stare at the photograph before him. There was something off putting about it, something that somehow overreached the fact that the woman was no longer breathing and that the man would probably never smile in that same way again. She seemed...familiar. She had the high cheek bones, pale complexion, and piercing gaze that he was used to seeing on the Malfoy family tapestry when he was younger. He knew she couldn't be related, that his family hadn't once produced a squib and no one had even married outside the Wizarding community but still the resemblance was uncanny. His gaze slid from their faces, over the wall, and to the door just down the hall - a white door shut tight, the harshness of muggle lighting seeping out from under it.

 

He swallowed and took a step towards it, feeling like a magnet being drawn forward. It felt like the black tentacles that had emerged from the underwater disk had tried to overtake him back in his office a few days ago were back and pulling him forward - wrapping around his feet and hands and making a muted shrill noise prick in the back of his head. He paused before the door, hand on the wood, head cocked to the side, listening.

 

The noise was growing, turning to a desperate wail that rattled his hearing as he pressed his ear to the door next to his hand. "Do you hear that?" He asked quietly, wondering how on earth the other two men could still be talking so easily just behind him if they could when Draco felt like it was sure to strike him down at any moment.

 

It was the sound of pure pain and heartbreak.

 

"Hear what?" Weasley asked, his voice barely reaching over the scream that was growing steadily in pitch.

 

"Malfoy, there's nothing. Just us." Potter informed him in that carefully pitched voice he intoned when he thought Draco was cresting on the verge of neuroticism, catching Draco's eyes with an openly concerned look as he came level with him. He stared at him for a moment, watching the blonde with his ear plastered to the door and a sweat breaking out on his brow. "What is it?" He asked, glancing quickly at the door and Draco's hand before sliding it back to him.

 

"Agony." He muttered, shutting his eyes, in an attempt to lessen the screaming in his ears or the look in Potter's eye that was shining with worry and nervousness he couldn't be sure.

 

A hand touched his back, tentative yet strong, and Draco jerked, feeling like he'd just been slapped with a hot mallet. Without a second thought, he gave into the uneasy need to see what was causing the painful noise and pushed the door open, ignoring Potter's words that were starting to drown in the wail inside his head anyway. 

 

A bright light blinded him, though logically he knew it couldn't be that bright in the little loo, the smell of rotting flesh and coppery blood making his stomach churn and his thoughts cloud. He blinked and forced himself forward, towards the screaming, towards the stench, towards the breaking he could feel happening in that very moment. His vision swam and swam until it was all brushed away, leaving a white tiled room with its white porcelain sink and curved bath, the long pail arm hanging over the side and her lifeless head angled sharply backwards - a pool of dark water in her gaping mouth and her hair still dripping wet and yet there wasn't so much as a drop on the floor beneath her. There also wasn't a hint of spilled blood anywhere, not even the tiniest speck of crimson, her very skin so white it seemed that all the blood had surely been drained from her body.

 

And yet he could smell it, like it was predominating the air.

 

His hands slid over the slippery surface of the bath's edge as he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on her open mouth and the water resting still inside. Why was it just sitting there like that? If her body hadn't naturally gotten rid of it then why hadn't the Auror's or the muggle police? Why leave her in such a horrific state. Because Draco knew that was where the breaking he could feel was coming from, knew that was why there was a screaming that only apparently he could hear vibrating around the room. Then her blue lips twitched and Draco watched as a string of black arms weaved around each other, drifting just past the surface filling her mouth.

 

His vision flattened, his eyelids fluttering as a weakness spread through his limbs. He swayed and felt like he was tunneling towards something, burrowing further and further, a dip of cold water rushing up him - pulling him, dragging him...

 

Merlin he hated death.

 

Except that wasn't right. He could feel her, hear her, she was...

 

"Alive." He gasped before promptly passing out.

 

 

****

 

 

He dreamed of floating in ice.

 

His body naked and cold and held suspended. He could hear voices, laughter, he could feel touches, fingers on his legs and hands on his arms. The cold seeped through his bones, the touches chipped at them, the voices made his head split. But he couldn't see. He couldn't speak. He could only scream silently and cry tears that wouldn't spill over. He could only hope...

 

 

****

 

 

It was hot and he was sweating, his eyes itching as he cracked them open to find himself buried under a heaping pile of thick blankets - all wool and flannel of hideous colors and designs. He didn't own such atrocious blankets. He groaned and snapped his eyes shut again, shifting under the mound that seemed to be teetering all around and above him - Merlin was someone trying to smother him to death?

 

"About time."

 

Draco stopped his wiggling and forced his eyes back open, his fingers inching up to curl around a handful of flannel before slowly pulling it down and away from his face. "Pansy?" He asked, startled to find his friend lounging in his desk chair next to his bed.

 

She flicked the copy of Witch Weekly in her lap shut and gazed steadily back at him, her eyes narrowed in such a way that Draco knew she was trying to figure him out. "Let’s skip the groggy, woe is me, questions and just get right to it shall we?"

 

Draco shoved the blankets down further and tried to sit up, only to find his limbs much too heavy to possibly move and instead just settled for staring at her incredulously. "What-"

 

She sighed, rolled her eyes dramatically, and crossed her long legs. "Yes you are at your home, no those aren't your blankets, Potter conjured them before stuffing you beneath them while muttering about how awfully icy you felt." She curled her fingers over her palm and studied her nails as she spoke, her tone almost bored sounding and rather aggravating as he tried to catch onto what she was telling him, the last remains of his nerve splitting dream getting shoved to the back of his mind.

 

"Why-"

 

"I'm not finished." She shot a glare his way before going back to examining her nails. "Where was I? Oh yes. You've been out for a few hours, muttering something rather frightening I must say. Quite unnerving having to listen to you really. Potter brought you here and firecalled me after you collapsed while you were apparently doing something I'm not allowed to know about." She scoffed and Draco could tell she was debating the merits of trying to pry that bit of information out of him now or later when he was more aware. She settled for the latter and launched back into her explanation. "You looked disgustingly sickly and I wanted to take you to St. Mungo’s but Potter said you'd skin him alive if you woke there so," she paused again and indicated his bedroom. "So here we are. I was instructed to keep a steady eye on you and send for him at once if you, what was it? I can't remember, but he was oddly jumpy during it all and rather snappish when I pulled my magazine from my purse. Rude really. Either case he said he'd be back as soon as he could manage it. There that should about cover it."

 

Draco opened and shut his mouth, his hand pressing into his temple as his head throbbed something painful. Forget the fact that Potter had obviously broken into his house, used his floo, deposited him into his bed, decided he needed more blankets than Draco even owned, and wrangled Pansy into sitting at his bedside while he was away, because Draco had fainted in the presence of another disk - and there wasn't even an explosion to blame it on this time. Not to mention the painful, screaming that had been ripping at his bones during it all - a sound that no one else could even hear.

 

What the hell did it all mean?

 

"Oh and he said to take this the moment you woke up." Pansy said, holding out a mug of something hot and smelling rather sickeningly sweet to him.

 

He eyed it suspiciously. "What is it?"

 

She scoffed once more and shoved it into his hand. "Like I know." She grumbled. "Just drink the blasted thing or I fear your rugged hero might randomly find a reason to have me committed to Azkaban. He's rather frightening when he's all wound up isn't he?"

 

"He's not my -" He snapped, holding the mug to his lips before her entire explanation caught up with him. "Wound up? Oh god, he didn't blow anything up in my flat did he?"

 

Pansy snorted and started to smile before it faltered and turned rather curious and bleak in the face of Draco's earnest stare. "Oh, you're serious? Potter actually blows things up? Goodness, I thought that was just one of those over the top rumors of his all-powerfulness or something equally as silly."

 

"Unfortunately not." Draco sighed, relieved that his flat was still in one piece. Dragging himself up against the headboard, he pressed the mug to his lips and let the concoction slip down his throat. It was hot and thick with the heady scent of vanilla and the raw taste of cocoa, making his tongue tingle and throat sear before it settled in his stomach in a warm sort of glow, spreading out through his limbs and slowly leeching away the heaviness that resided there.

 

Pansy vanished the mug right out of his hands the second he was done with it and leaned forward in her chair with a predatory gleam in her eye. "Good. Now that you no longer look like death's lover, spill. I want all the sordid details, mind, so leave nothing out."

 

"Nothing much to tell." Draco said, letting his body flop back against the mattress in a sprawling sort of way that if it had been anyone else but Pansy he most certainly wouldn't have been caught dead doing.

 

"Balderdash." Pansy waved his refusal away. "Potter spent 15 minutes tucking you in and you're trying to tell me it's nothing? Please honey, I'm not a nitwit."

 

"We were out on a case." He grumbled, rubbing his hand over his eyes to block out the soft lighting in his bedroom.

 

"I gathered as much obviously." Her foot began bouncing in the air as she shifted in her seat, her long legs crossing over the other. "Tell me something I don't know now."

 

"It went badly." He snapped, the rubbing at his temple doing absolutely nothing to dispel the mounting headache and Pansy's voice only managing to grate his nerves even more. He really needed her to leave, needed time to think, and figure out everything that was happening.

 

Pansy huffed and sat back with a muted thud, her face growing pinched in annoyance. "You're such a stick in the mud these day, just like Potter. You spend too much time with those blasted Gryffindor’s and their sense of legality."

 

"Pansy-" He sighed.

 

"No, don't Pansy me. I've been sitting here for hours, doing nothing, without so much as an ounce of entertainment, which is not an easy task for me, you know how I must stay busy. You must give me something. I demand it. Now, or I swear I'll-"

 

"Alright! Merlin woman..." Draco conceded. "You get one question. Just one."

 

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, taking a long moment to consider her options. "And you swear you'll answer it?"

 

Draco swallowed and nodded, not liking the light that was starting to spark a tad manically in her eye. "Yes."

 

She grinned and tapped her finger over her lips. "Well then, I need to think this over. I can already surmise that you must have gotten...injured, or something other mundane like that." She muttered with a quick glance up and down his body, obviously content with the fact that he was awake and in one piece and not willing to waste her one question on the specifics of said injury.

 

"Sweet Pans, really sweet. I could have nearly died for all you know" He rolled his eyes and tried not to squirm under her gaze. He was already starting to regret not putting some restrictions on what she could and could not ask.

 

She winked but generally ignored his sarcastic comment. "And you were obviously out with Potter and no doubt that Weasley of his was there as well. On a case. Though why you keep going out on their assignments is beyond me. Did Potter insist you need to see an artifact right then? No don't answer that. He must have, it's Potter after all. So Potter probably came and fetched you, even though he could have just sent a message...then you were studying...whatever it is you study...and then. BOOM. Or something. Down you go and Potter gets all tetchy and here we are." She trailed off a little, a triumphant grin on her lips as she did so.

 

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out then." Draco muttered, letting his eyes drift shut once more.

 

"I'm rather brilliant aren't I? I should be an Auror, though red really isn't my color."

 

Draco snorted. "Yes, that's why you shouldn't be an Auror, because of the uniforms color and not the fact that you hate any sort of work and are a pathological liar."

 

"Pot calling the Kettle black dear." She shot back smoothly and Draco cracked one eye open to glare at her. "Either way I've thought of my question."

 

"Get on with it then."

 

She smirked and bent quickly, a bright crimson shirt knotted in her hand as she straightened back up. "What was Potter's reaction when he found you wearing this?" She quirked an eyebrow and shook the blasted shirt out.

 

"I...that's your question? What he thought of your vulgar shirt?" Draco asked bewildered and slightly flushed at the memory. Though he really should have guessed that when it came down to it that her question wouldn't be about the case. Pansy carved drama, she loved to shift out the dirt and twist it up into a storm that once she was through with it wouldn't even resemble what had happened in the first place. She didn't even need that much to go on, she liked little facts. Liked them too much in his opinion.

 

She nodded. "Oh yes and it's your vulgar shirt, that's how present giving works."

 

Sitting up quickly, he snatched the lewd piece of clothing from her dangling fingers and crushed it in his fist, cursing its existence for the third time that day. "If you must know, he didn't think it was quite accurate."

 

"Accurate? How can it be inaccurate? You do like Quidditch players, that's why it was such a magnificent gift in the first place." She blinked at him in confusion.

 

"He doesn't know that now does he?"

 

"Well I doubt it's that big of a secret..." She muttered.

 

"Regardless, he was referring to the riding part." Draco huffed, feeling something sputter in his chest as he said it. Though why it should matter that Potter would so flippantly assume that he wouldn't be a bottom was something that Draco didn't wish to dwell on. Nor on the fact that it kept making his stomach sink and twist like it had when they had kicked off the ground on his motorbike.

 

"What does that...oh. Oh!" She grinned lewdly, and leaned towards him. "Does he know this for certain?"

 

Draco's back snapped into a perfect line, his face going blank and hard, making Pansy's grin falter into a slight frown. He was getting tired of her insistent prying, of her never ending questions that had started months ago when she had first gone to the club with him. "Don't be absurd."

 

"Oh for fuck's sake Draco, are you still playing at this? Honestly? Must I remind you that you two disappeared into the loo for -"

 

"That was Barry." He interrupted indignantly, to which she simply rolled her eyes. "And you've asked your question so kindly shut it, my head hurts."

 

"Fine. But don't think this is over." And with that she stood from her chair, moving towards his bedroom door with a fast pace that hadn't changed since their day's at school.

 

"Where are you going?" He asked after her, suddenly leery of where she might be headed now.

 

She paused with her hand on the door, a smile tugging on her plump lips. "To firecall Potter. He wanted to be informed the moment you woke up and I fear I'm already in violation of his rather excessive instructions."

 

"You will not." Draco sat up straighter, his eye's narrowed and jaw hardened.

 

"Don't even try that look with me Draco, I know you to well for it to work." And with that she was gone, her heels clicking loudly all the way down the hall.

 

With a huff Draco sank back into the bedding, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to gather his thoughts about him. But the more he reached for them, the quicker they slipped away, growing fuzzy and distant, merely an echo that he could vaguely remember. It was like his mind refused to go back, refused to relive those moments in the loo with the water drenched woman.

 

 

****

 

 

An hour later when his fire blazed bright green and spat out an extremely exhausted and disheveled Potter onto the woven rug at his hearth Draco was ready for him. He carefully set down his quill on the deep walnut table and sat back in his chair, suddenly grateful that he had managed to get rid of Pansy and her endless string of awkward questions before the Auror had arrived when he caught the look in his tired green eyes.

 

Potter wasn't exactly in one of his moods but he was nearly vibrating with a certain kind of energy. It was Hero Potter and Work Potter jumbled into one ball with a strong dash of Protective Potter.

 

Draco didn't like Protective Potter, he put Hero Potter to shame and more often than not made Draco extremely uncomfortable. It was Protective Potter that tended to leave bruises on his skin with too tight of a grip, who had once spelled a rope around Draco's waist and sent him flying off a cliff when a dark artifact he had been testing at the scene of a crime had activated and tried to kill him - leaving him dangling above the rocks below while Potter went off his hinges again and did something stupidly heroic before hauling Draco back to safety. The fight that had followed had been dubbed by Weasley as the 'most wicked' one they'd ever gotten into. It had lasted an entire two weeks until well...there was the club and then...the tension was gone with a few well-placed bruises on Potter's body in retribution.

 

Damn it, not Potter, The Club Man wasn't Potter. He needed to remember that. Always needed to remember that.

 

Potter stood before the dying flames, staring at him curiously for a long moment before pushing a hand through his mangled hair and sighing softly. "Malfoy-"

 

"Sit." Draco indicated the chair across from the table he was residing at. "Eat." He ordered, nodding at the plate before the empty seat holding a single cheese sandwich - which apparently was the only food Pansy knew how to make. She had 'cooked' it for him, grumbling the whole time even though he had never asked her to do it. But he found that his stomach simply refused the idea of food when she had finished so it had just sat there, where Pansy had left it, waiting. And a good thing too, it turned out.

 

Potter glanced at the sandwich and back to Draco. "No thanks, I'm not hungry."

 

Draco shook his head and picked his quill back up. "Yes you are." Draco corrected, Potter's stomach growling in the next second like it was desperately trying to agree with him and therefor get Potter to put something into his body. "You never eat on a case and its past supper, so just shut it and eat otherwise you will be completely intolerable to talk to."

 

"Yeah, alright." Potter said after a moment, the sound of the chair scraping back breaking the silence before he plopped down into it and dug into his sandwich.

 

The next several minutes were filled with soft chewing noises and his quill scratching across the parchment, the mantle clock ticking more loudly then it ever seemed to do in the past, as Draco tried to pretend that Potter wasn't sitting across from him and that he couldn't feel his intense gaze boring into his bent head. When it finally all became too much - too much silence, too much staring, too much Potter in general - Draco stood abruptly and fled to the kitchen, taking his time to reorient himself in the methodical procedure of preparing tea.

 

The kettle sang, the water sizzled, the leaves unfurled in the mesh strainer. The mugs burned the palms of his hands as he picked them up and carried them back to the study to find Potter waiting silently for him with a small smile - the empty plate pushed a little ways away from him.

 

"Thank you." He said as Draco placed the mug down in front of him before sliding into his own seat and folding both his hands around his own. "How are you feeling?"

 

Draco tried not to wince at the soft tone of Potter's voice. He didn't like it when Potter sounded like that. It made his boxes wobble in his mind and now with them blown to shreds he couldn't afford the disturbing thoughts that tone caused in him. He waved a dismissing hand and sat back. "Let's just get to it Potter."

 

Potter frowned but didn't ask again, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his mug giving away his nervousness. "Yeah, alright." With a deep breath he launched into his story - Potter told him how he had started screaming before he passed out at the muggle's house, how he had went white as a sheet and cold as ice. How he had been limp and motionless no matter how hard Potter had shook him. How he didn't respond to any of his spells. How he seemed to be sleeping in death.

 

Potter's voice had hitched then, his gaze flicking briefly to Draco with a look that told him that he wanted to say more, but he didn't. He just looked back down at his tea, bit into the tip of his tongue and then pressed on. The diagnostic spells told them that he was alive and stable, even though he had seemed so far from it. "You were just...sleeping for all the spell could tell. You didn't even twitch when I Apparated us back here." He trailed off for a moment again before clearing his voice and starting back up.

 

He briefly mentioned getting Pansy (which from his tight tone Draco could tell had been quite the ordeal even though Potter didn't mention it) before leaving again and that's when Draco's attention perked back up. Potter had apparently heard him mutter about the girl being alive and though there was every indication that she was indeed dead, he and Weasley had transported her immediately to St. Mungo's where they put her under some heavy stasis spells before working on her. It was after several hours that they had proclaimed her oddly enough alive and dead. Which made absolutely no sense and frustratingly perplexed everyone involved.

 

"She's still there, under heavy surveillance to say the least. But she's defying all the laws of nature and magic simultaneously. The Healers can't seem to find anything at all." He sighed deeply and raked a hand through his hair, sitting back heavily in his chair like recounting the last few hours had sapped the last of his energy. It probably had.

 

"And the disk?" Draco asked after a moment of silence, letting everything sink in.

 

Potter took a long drink of his tea before meeting his eye and answering. "Still attached to her cheek. The Healer's seemed reluctant to remove it since they couldn't determine just exactly what it was causing in her."

 

"You mean if it was killing her or keeping her on the very thresh hold of deaths doorway?"

 

Potter smiled weakly. "Exactly."

 

Draco's jaw clenched at the thought, his mind spinning around and around again. He didn't have an answer. Part of him was desperate for the Healers to remove the disk, positive that that was what was causing the agony he could feel. But another part of him told him to wait, to be patient and cautious. Because for all he knew it was killing her slowly but also...keeping her suspended right before death, like her house and entire street had been suspended.

 

"So your turn." Potter said quietly after Draco didn't say anything for quite some time.

 

"Mhmm?" Draco hummed, still staring into his tea and trying to puzzle it all together.

 

"What happened with you in there?"

 

Draco stared back at him for a moment, hopelessly trying to figure out how to put it all into words. He didn't know how to explain how she had felt so familiar, how everything seemed still and fuzzy around the edges, almost like he had been looking at everything through underwater goggles. He didn't know how to possibly explain how entering the house and...god the room...had made him feel without making Potter determined to have him locked up in the mental ward. How exactly do you tell someone that a supposedly dead girl had been screaming inside his soul? That he just knew she was alive? "I'm not sure."

 

"You said that you could hear something. You said it was agony." Potter pressed.

 

Draco nodded slowly. "I can't explain it."

 

"Try." Potter insisted, making Draco scowl at him.

 

"Potter." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, the other man's insistence in the face of Draco's confusion just making everything that much harder to process for some reason.

 

"It has to be something." Potter sounded edgy again, his fingers once more in his hair. "The disk hasn't reacted to anything, you said so yourself and yet both times you've come in contact with it while it's been submerged something has happened. Something that only seems to affect you. I didn't hear or feel anything either time and neither did Ron, hell those weird tentacle things only appeared after you entered the room and we had been there for hours before I came to get you. So Malfoy you....you have to try."

 

"It's not for lack of trying Potter." Draco snapped, unnerved by the frantic lilt that had sneaked its way into Potter's speech and the harsh reality that it had been just him - there was no pretending otherwise now. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he placed his palms flat on the table top. "It felt a little like being under the Imperius curse. Thoughts and feelings that weren't my own were threading through me. In the bathroom, with the girl was more...intense then with the disk in my office. Then it had just been an impression so to speak. Like echoes of things that had happened. But today it was like I could feel her, knew her, knew her pain, knew her breaking, knew her suspension."

 

"Suspension? What do you mean?" He asked curiously.

 

"Like I said, nothing was clear it was all just...feelings. And she, her house and even the street, felt suspended in time. Like something was holding it still." He shrugged and sipped his tea.

 

"Hell Malfoy." Potter finally breathed after a terse silence. "Have you encountered anything like this before?"

 

"I -" Draco shut his mouth, unable to say no like he had been planning on because that wasn't exactly true was it? He didn't know how it was all familiar but it was. And that was the most worrisome aspect of it all, the nagging thought that he was forgetting something so huge, like something had been wiped from his mind and all that was left was an oily residue. "I'm not sure."

 

"How does-"

 

"I don't know Potter." He said tensely. "If I did don't you think I would have more answers?"

 

Potter considered him for a moment before nodding and visibly deflating a little. "Right. So we're right back where we were then."

 

"Until the girl wakes up or..."

 

"Doesn't." Potter finished for him with a grimace, his teeth sinking into the corner of his lip. "Fucked up case huh?"

 

Draco let out a harsh single note laugh. "Mildly put but yes."

 

Potter smiled at him, tapping his fingers at the table. "You'll be alright?"

 

He scoffed and with a flick of his hand sent both their mugs floating lazily back towards the kitchen. "Always manage don't I?"

 

The look Potter shot him had Draco resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably in his seat. It hinted at things they weren't supposed to openly acknowledge and made something warm stir low in his stomach. If it were any other night, any other case, any other moment he knew how this night would have progressed. They would part ways, separately enter the club, and then seek to relieve their tension (and he could even guess how, Potter liked to use his mouth when he was especially worked up). He knew this because that's how it always happened after a difficult day. And it would be spectacular, it always was when Potter left after looking at him like he was now - like he was desperate to remind them both that they were still breathing and there.

 

But this night wasn't like any other and it never would be again, because there was no more separating the Potter's in his head and he couldn't risk it. He couldn't pretend without the walls to fling back up at a moment’s notice. It was bad enough he was sitting across from Potter, having these thoughts, connecting the remembered sensations with the Auror. They were never supposed to connect, he reminded himself before scowling inwardly, fat lot of good that rule did him now.

 

"Malfoy-"

 

"I'll see you in the morning." Draco interrupted, unwilling to hear whatever it was Potter was about to say, not with that softness in his eyes and the way his fingers were tense against the wood of the table.

 

Potter pursed his lips before going slack with a tired sigh. "Right. Just don't -" He stopped himself short, standing abruptly and walking quickly back towards the fireplace. He grabbed a fistful of floo powder from the dish on the mantel, the jerky movements of his hand dislodging more than was necessary so it floated like sooty snow to the floor at his feet. He paused with his hand clenched around the powder and even though all Draco could see was the side of his face harshly cast in shadow and light from the fire, he could tell that Potter was starting at it intently, a hard line to his jaw.

 

He could practically see the debate raging in Potter's mind and wasn't sure if he was relieved or not when the man's shoulders sagged and he tossed his fist full into the fire. "Night then." He muttered without turning back and then he stepped through and was gone, swept away to his own cold study in his dark home. He watched the fire blaze bright then settle back to its amber and orange glow, wondering idly why he felt a twist in his chest as he unwilling pictured Potter trudging up the creaking steps to his bedroom, flopping down on his bed still in his worn clothing and booted feet - no doubt just staring at the ceiling the entire night before finally drifting off into a fitful sleep moments before he needed to rise for work.

 

Much like Draco found himself doing in the hard wood chair, staring at the flames and letting their dancing drown out everything else.


	6. Chapter 6

The desk before him was neat and tidy. There were three perfectly aligned stacks of files in the top right hand corner, ordered properly and labeled clearly. There was a pot of ink and blotter with a quill at the ready in hands reach. Two picture frames with smiling redheads and one darker smiling man twinkling out at him from the left hand corner, the glass smudge free from finger prints and the wood stripped of the garish paint that had adorned it not long ago so that it matched the deep cherry wood of the desk.

 

Draco smiled at his work and sat back in the plush chair, already feeling more at home now than when he had arrived an hour ago in Weasley's and Potter's cubicle in the early hours of the morning before even a third of the Auror department had woken up. He couldn't stand clutter and disorganization, it nagged and nagged at him, just the thought of sharing Potter's overflowing work area for even one more day making it impossible for him to sleep.

 

Really that was the only reason he had gotten up so early, the idea of facing the clutter, absolutely nothing to do with laying eyes on Potter again or the dreams he had had for the last four miserable days that made him relive it all over again - making it annoyingly difficult to enter said cubicle and face the man who was thusly tormenting him. It was aggravating him to no end that that one damn night just wouldn't go the fuck away and leave him alone, that those moments in the men's loo were what plagued him at night when really he should have been far more concerned with the confusing case they had yet to make any headway on.

 

And it just wasn't at night that he found the memory and subsequent reactions springing up on him. Being forced to share Potter and Weasley's cubicle over the week had basically confined Draco to be in continual breathing distance of the other man no matter how hard he tried to ignore or even flee from him. Potter seemed just as hopelessly clueless and horribly demanding as usual - smacking him in the forehead with wads of paper when Draco pointedly ignored a comment he directed at him, bumping his leg into Draco's beneath their shared desk far more often than Draco thought any living soul could possibly manage, he had even snatched Draco's tie and forcibly spun him around in his chair when he was trying and failing to get Draco to participate in some conversation or other with Weasley.

 

That had sparked a rather loud fight that the redhead had to physically break up.

 

It was all highly irritating, the touch of Potter's knee making a tingle travel up his spine in a rush, not to mention Potter's rather obscene habit of chewing on the end of his quill causing him to have caught Draco staring more than once - to which he would just cock his head and smile before jabbing the thing back between his lips and going back to his report. He had no idea how Weasley had managed sharing a workspace for so long with the git, how his constant twitching and apparent oral fixation hadn't driven him mad.

 

Not to mention the pressure that seemed to building in his chest that he blamed on the case but in all reality had more to do with the war hero than he cared to admit even to himself.

 

"Whoa, been busy have we?" Weasley popped around the corner, a half-eaten maple glazed doughnut clasped in his hand, the sugary frosting smeared across the corner of his mouth. His blue eyes drifted over Potter's newly tidied desk and he shook his head - his red hair bouncing like a lion’s mane with a few strands sticking to the frosting on his lips before he shoved the fatty breakfast into his mouth with what sounded like it was trying to be a chuckle around the monstrous bite.

 

"Better isn't it?" Draco raised an eyebrow, sipping the bitter coffee that served as his breakfast as he watched Weasley plop gracelessly down into his chair behind his own (slightly less cluttered than Potter's had been) desk.

 

He nodded absentmindedly, chewing quickly before swallowing thickly. "Er, yeah. Can't say what Harry will think of it mind."

 

Draco shrugged and stretched his legs out in front of himself, propping them up on the edge of the desk with his ankles crossed. "Couldn't care a fig what he thinks, the bastard blew up my office, suffering through cleanliness is the least he can do." He retorted, leaving out the fact that he had placed a rather heavy handed sticking charm on the bottom drawer so Potter would have to struggle with it each time he went to open it.

 

"Point." Weasley mumbled around the last of the doughnut, licking his sticky fingers with a thoughtful air. "Though he does feel rather terrible about all that."

 

Draco grunted, rolling his eyes dramatically in response.

 

"Hey Ron, do you thi-erm." Potter jolted to a halt in the opening to their cubicle, his arms laden down with a gigantic stack of heavy books, the top two slipping off to bang loudly against the floor as he stared around at them - a faint pink tint coloring his cheeks. "Shit." he cursed, twitching his hand as much as he possibly could until the fallen volumes were flying back atop the stack.

 

Weasley chuckled and slouched more fully in his chair, a clear and obvious sign that he had no intention of helping his partner with his load. "Damn Harry, been to see Mione have you?"

 

Potter glared and shuffled forward. "Thanks for the help." He grumbled, pitching the pile onto Weasley's desk without so much as a glance in Draco's direction, not that he minded, Morning Potter was hardly better then moody things aren't going my way Potter after all. "And no these are for you from Jerry. Something about the Timble case you said you'd give him a hand with?"

 

"Bloody hell." Weasley grumbled, flicking the top book open for a split second before snapping it shut with a pronounced grimace and vanishing the pile with a flick of his wand.

 

"Hey!" Potter shouted, his hand pushing through his hair, making the thick curls stand up at every odd angle imaginable. "I carried those up two floors!"

 

"Carried what up?" Weasley feigned innocence. "I don't recall you carrying anything in, right Malfoy?"

 

Draco nodded. "And forgot his coffee too, lazy sod." 

 

Potter whipped around and frowned, his eyes narrowed as they landed on the blonde perched in his chair, his gaze lingering on his face - mouth opening and shutting like a fish, whatever he was going to say obviously struck in his throat. It was a strange moment...though Draco wasn't sure why it should be. Potter should have been used to seeing him there by now, but still everyone morning it seemed a shock to Potter's system in an array of thoughts that Draco couldn't even begin to understand. It seemed the man couldn't quite decide how he felt about having him there, sharing his desk and breathing the same air day in and day out.

 

Some days he didn't seem to mind at all, almost seemingly happy to have Draco there, other days he suffered Draco's presence begrudgingly, and place between that every other emotion that one could think of. He never knew which Potter he would get - though if he was honest there most certainly was a pattern to the days that the man would come in so wound that he was practically jumping out of his skin. But that pattern didn't bode well for Draco and the boxes in his head he was desperately trying and failing to reconstruct. They also tended to make him flush and ache to be anywhere but separated from Potter by a few feet of wood.

 

With determination he gazed lazily back, too tired from the long week and lack of sleep to figure out what was going on in Potter's mind this morning, it didn't matter anyway - except...he found the air was suddenly a tad too hot, the long lean line of Potter's body in his Auror uniform, minus his robes, was making his eyes itch as they tried to stare against Draco's adamant will that he wouldn't. Not to mention that Potter was still gaping silently with green eyes that were slightly purple rimmed.

 

He hadn't slept again. Draco would bet everything he had on that fact.

 

Then Potter snapped his mouth shut, his fist curling and lengthening at his side as he scanned his desk with an air of confusion. "What the hell did you do to my desk!?" He demanded, his hand forming a fist on his hip.

 

"It's called organization." Draco informed him, a silent sigh of relief slowing his heart rate that had inexplicably started beating rather quickly as Potter let the moment slide. "Something one typically does in one's work space."

 

"The hell!" He snapped. "Where's all my stuff?"

 

"What stuff?" Draco furrowed his brow, glancing at the desktop like it wasn't missing a dozen or so knickknacks.

 

"My stuff." He rather uselessly elaborated with a jerky hand movement that encompassed the whole of the desk. "You know the...things."

 

Draco smirked, stretching out his back and taking a long drink from his coffee before answering. "Don't even know what they were, do you Potter?"

 

"That doesn't matter, it's my desk and I want them - what on earth is that?" Potter was next to him now, staring at a sleek black cabinet that was nearly as tall as Potter himself without any discernible openings on any of its four smooth sides.

 

"A filing cabinet." Draco informed him without bothering to turn and took.

 

"What's it for?" Potter narrowed his eyes and reached out a single hand, jumping back slightly when Draco twitched his fingers and sent one of the drawers flying open so quickly it nearly knocked right into his chest.

 

Draco shot him an incredulously look. "Filing." He replied slowly as if speaking to a dimwitted child who just stared back at him with a slow blink. "For files. You lift and place, like so." Draco instructed, snapping the case file he had been (albeit slightly illegally) perusing and standing swiftly inserted it among the other blue tabbed ones.

 

"Why are they blue?" Potter muttered, his fingers skipping over the rows inside the drawer. "And red and yellow? Oh god it's like Hermione’s been here."

 

"Take two seconds and you can figure it out yourself." Draco grumbled, flopping back into Potter's chair once more and purposely ignoring the Granger comment. If Potter would just stop wrinkling his forehead and worrying about the fate of his precious but useless knickknacks he would realize that Draco had just saved him hours of work and had made his life just a hell of a lot easier.

 

Not that that was the reason Draco had done it. He simply couldn't take another day of Potter rummaging around his cubicle muttering to himself things like, "I know it's here somewhere, maybe..." and so and so on till Draco felt like he was going to go insane and bash his head through a wall.

 

The day progressed downhill from there. After thirty minutes of grumbling, Potter had finally caught onto the ingenious system Draco had employed and had begrudgingly began using it without divisive comments. But that didn't stop him from snapping at things he normally let roll of his shoulder, didn't keep his leg from bouncing and bouncing like it was desperate to run right off of his body. The first, second, third, and forth cups of coffee he sucked down didn't seem to lend him any more alertness except to make him even more jittery to the point that he was nearly gashing his teeth at the files before him. The friendly natured comments Weasley directed Draco's way only seemed to piss him off to a level the blonde thought was a tad excessive.

 

He nearly broke a quill right after his redheaded partner muttered something in his ear and then left for a meeting, his eyes sliding to meet Draco's for a flash of a second before the instrument snapped between his fingers.

 

He was in a positively purple eyed, red faced, twitchy limbed state with his hands in a near consent fist in his disastrous hair that didn't look like it had seen a brush in a month when the memo zipped through their cubicle and landed delicately before Potter - who just stared at it for all of a minute like he had never seen such a thing before in his life.

 

Merlin, the man needed to sleep.

 

"Are you going to open it?" Draco asked, kicking him lightly under the desk when he didn't even so much as mutter incoherently or twitch an eye in response. "Potter?"

 

"Yeah, alright." He muttered in a resigned tone, like the note was going to detail his impending doom. He ripped it open, cursed at the paper cut it sliced across his finger, stuck the bleeding red digit in his mouth and quickly scanned the parchment. He looked more than a little mad during it and oddly fetching with his wide dry eyes blinking at the neat and tidy scrawl.

 

Which really just confirmed that the week really was getting to Draco when he thought that the sleep deprived man who was actually making their desk rattle with his jittering limbs looked a bit...sexy, especially with the edge of his finger stuck in his mouth. It was thoughts like that, Draco knew, that were going to make him start twitching himself if he didn't get a handle on them soon.

 

Draco saw the moment whatever the note contained registered in his brain - Potter's eyes widened impossibly behind his glasses, his breath stuck in his chest then gushed out through his nose and he was out of his seat and striding across the cubicle with that purposeful tread that always overtook him the moment he switched into full Auror mode. He almost let out a sigh of relief as the man swung his robes on and began quickly buckling it up when his eyes darted down to the note lying forgotten on the desk and he stopped with his heart suddenly in his throat.

 

It was a note from the hospital. Something had happened with the girl.

 

And Potter was leaving. Without him, the insufferable git.

 

True it wasn't exactly Draco's job to go, sure he wasn't really needed unless called upon, and yes Potter was perfectly capable of looking in on it and reporting back anything Draco needed to know but still...he needed to go. This wasn't just a case anymore, any sort of detachment was gone, which perhaps was another reason he should probably stay behind. Yet he needed to see the girl again, to see her state, to see if he would...feel anything this time.

 

Without really thinking of the probability that he would end up splinched or worse, he reached out and latched onto Potter's arm just as he was spinning and a second before he Disapparated - squeezing them both through the tight tube of space and forcing them out with a loud whoosh and sickening nausea into St. Mungo's waiting room. He immediately let go and stumbled a step, a little disoriented from the suddenness of it all.

 

"Malfoy?"

 

Draco glanced up sharply, startled to hear his name not in Potter's clipped voice but in Weasley's slightly amused deep rumble. "Weasley," he straightened fully as he took the other man in, piecing together quickly that he must have received the same notice that Potter had and headed here straight away as well. Weasley hated department meetings and what better excuse to slip free early? "Been in yet?" He asked, taking one step forward before harsh fingers were digging into his elbow and keeping him in place.

 

"What do you think you're doing?" Potter snapped, his grasp much too solid and rough, trapping Draco in mid-step, his gaze livid behind his spectacles.

 

"What do you think?" Draco shot back, refusing to back up a step even though he knew that would alleviate the sharp pressure that was starting to build up under Potter's fingers.

 

Potter's grip tightened painfully. "You're not coming."

 

"Yes I am." Draco glared back at him. "I need another look at the disk and seeing as their not removing it from her, I'm left with little choice."

 

"I'll give you a recount." Potter said through gritted teeth and Draco saw something hot flicker through his gaze.

 

"A recount?" Draco balked. "What good would a blasted recount do me?"

 

"Harry just let him come, you know we could use him." Weasley said and Draco resisted the urge to chance a glance his way, instead he kept up his glare, watching the minute reactions that were speeding across Potter's face.

 

"Are you insane? Am I the only one that remembers what happened last time?" Potter all but erupted and Draco rolled his eyes, fucking Protective Potter was making an unscheduled appearance.

 

Did he mention how much he loathed Protective Potter?

 

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm not-"

 

"I'll meet you in there Ron." Potter interrupted him, pulling sharply on his arm and dragging (again with the yanking) him down the hall, Draco just managing to catch Weasley's bemused expression before the redhead was spinning around and heading the opposite way with a spring in his step.

 

"Unhand me Potter!" Draco grappled for purchase at the wall, inwardly cursing Potter's hidden strength and pointedly ignoring all the looks getting sent their way as he was manhandled down the white walled hall.

 

"Shut it." Potter ordered, yanking open a door and shoving him unceremoniously inside before following right after him, the door thudding shut behind them. With a muttered lumos from Potter, Draco blinked and looked around them, only to find himself trapped inside a tiny storage cupboard with a glaring Potter to boot. "Are you trying to get killed Malfoy?" Potter spat at him, the glowing orb lifting off the tip of his wand to float in the air above them - casting everything in silvery light and soft gray shadow.

 

"Of course not." Draco countered. "Don't be an imbecile." The air in the cupboard was already much too hot, smelling of raw alcohol and cleaning potions, the space so small that he could feel Potter's angry breath on his face like little puffs of an itching dragon. "Why are we in a damn cupboard?"

 

"Good. Now what the hell do you think you're doing here then?" Potter's magic sparked and the orb above them glowing brightly for a moment, reflecting sharply off Potter's lenses. "Because as history tell us, you don't react well with these blasted disks! What makes you think this time will be any different?"

 

Draco scoffed and folded his arms over his chest. "Perhaps, perhaps not."

 

"You." He huffed, pointing an accusing finger at him that trembled with his rage just a little. "You have a death wish. You fucking moron. You're not coming, that's final."

 

"That's not your decision." Draco seethed. "This is my case as much as yours now."

 

"It is my decision and I'll take you off it faster than you can blink if you push me." His voice was low and dangerous, hard around the edges and breathy at the end, his face faltering with a crack of weariness. "You can't...I can't let you, alright? Just go back to the office and I'll fill you in later."

 

"You're being a stupid arse." Draco kicked at the wall behind him and tried to deflate the anger simmering in his blood. He could yell at Potter till he literally passed out but that wouldn't get him anywhere - not when the blasted man thought that he was in the right. That he was doing it for Draco's own bloody good. And maybe he was, maybe he had a point. But there was something driving him forward, he couldn't give this case up. He needed to know, needed answers, needed to find out what had left that oily imprint in his memory. "It's not like I almost died last time, just got a nap out of it is all."

 

Potter let out a disbelieving laugh. "A nap? Merlin Malfoy, do you have any idea how you...you don't. And you haven't even...I can't even..." He tugged at his curls and huffed out a constricted sigh, like something heavy was sitting on his chest.

 

"Learn to finish a damn sentence." Draco leaned back against the wall with a stiff spine, trying to put as much space between the two of them as Potter seemed to be radiating, sparking in energy with a manic gleam that was beginning to make Draco's chest ache. The feeling of being crushed slowly was back in full force, every single day of the week had added another rock to the pile and he felt as if he was sinking and he could see clearly now that Potter was sinking with him - that the weight was becoming unbearable for both of them.

 

That something was going to snap.

 

He wondered if this was how his chest was going to finally crack under it all, breaking into his bones and suffocating him. He puffed out a breath that seemed illusive and curled his fingers into the wall behind the small of his back. It felt like it had so very long, back when their days were filled with arguing, of clenching his jaw so much it was constantly soar, of letting his mouth run off until he found himself nose to nose shouting back at Potter. It was like he was staring at the Potter from back then, the Potter that looked like he was going to rip him to shreds, put him back together, and then do it again. He looked like he did the night of their first meeting on accident at the club. He felt like it to - the energy rolling off him colliding with Draco's own emotions in a violent crash. It had only been a week since they'd...and yet, here they were again already. He itched to have the beat and animosity of the club around them. Felt the desire curl in the pit of his stomach with a startling fierceness and not for the first time that week he fought against the need to bend Potter beneath him, to meld their flesh together until the tension faded back to the corner of his being.

 

It would fix everything and ruin it all in one go.

 

Part of him told him that it was all his fault, that the pressure on his chest could have been relieved days ago if he had just given in. Except that wasn't right, he wasn't the one who had ruined it, who had brought them back to this, who made every moment spent with the other man feel like standing on the edge of a precipitous.

 

They had been here before, danced this line, they tipped one way then but Draco was determined they wouldn't fall that way again. Unfortunately that only left one alternative that Draco feared would lead to them cursing each other till one of them - Draco probably - ended up in Azkaban for murder.

 

But even so, he wanted to breathe properly again and Potter wasn't talking anymore, he wasn't even yelling, his wand wasn't even in his hand anymore. He was just panting, his chest moving deeply with each breath and he was staring at Draco with a smoldering gaze like a fire was smoking beneath them. They were a mirror to his own thoughts - like someone was reading a script over them and playing their bodies like marionettes. It seemed so silly, surely they could...melt the tension with others.

 

That didn't work though. It just added to the craving and Draco had no idea how long they’d been staring at each other now - it felt like a small eternity.

 

"It can be..." Potter muttered suddenly, his voice heavy and rough, and then he was stepping forward - Draco's shoulders connecting solidly against the wall as Potter grabbed his chin, forced his head to the side, and descended on his neck like a damn vampire going for the kill.

 

"Don't." Draco huffed out but his eyes were slipping closed and his hands were inexplicably clutching at Potter's strong shoulders. Potter's mouth was hot on his throat, sucking and licking and fucking biting, no doubt leaving marks that would torment him for weeks - moving across his pale skin as Potter pressed into him and fit their bodies together, knee to knee, hip to hip, hands on his jaw and on his waist, holding him pinned. "Don't." He said again, more breathe then words, his hips moving in disobedience to his command.

 

A command he meant, because he couldn't, they couldn't. It was against the rules. Forget the glasses nicking in the loo, this was breaking all the rules to specks of ground up glass. This left nowhere to hide.

 

"Yes." Potter growled into his ear, nipping at the lobe and licking at the shell. "Need to." He sucked the patch of skin right under Draco's ear into his mouth and hummed, pressing his hips forward until Draco couldn't be anymore trapped. Wonderfully, wonderfully trapped between hot heat and cold wood, Potter's smell of ink and coffee and forest familiar in his nose and making his head spin. "You've been driving me fucking insane." His knee slipped between Draco's thighs and rubbed up and down, causing Draco to curse and grasp at his back with sharp nails that would leave half-moons in his skin.

 

"No." Draco hissed in a desperate attempt to cling to his denial, to hold onto the last shred of decorum, even as he dug a hand into Potter's hair and tugged till the man was cursing and moaning against his neck, his lips tingling and feeling so horribly full at the thought of kissing him, of tasting him like that for the first time ever. He dreamed of it often, of parting those lips with his tongue and finding out if he tasted like he smelled, if he kissed like he handled the rest of Draco's body - with an unquenchable passion that left him breathless. He licked his lips and pressed them together to keep from doing so, shifting until his own knee found its way between Potter's, the man's hard member hot against his thigh even through their many layers of clothing. Too many damn layers.

 

Potter licked at the hollow of his throat, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of his robe and the buttons at his collar to fully expose the long column of pale flesh. "I need to." He muttered again and Draco felt his stomach flip over and over on itself as he moved his hips, effectively rubbing both their crotches against the others thigh, Potter still lavishing attention on his collar and skin just beneath. "Merlin yes."

 

"Just like this." Draco clarified, biting into his tongue to keep from groaning out as they rutted together, their hands on each other’s hips. "And never speak of it." He grabbed at Potter's arse and felt his head go light till he could no longer think clearly, oblivious as to why he never noticed how sensitive of a neck he had before, because gods, Potter's mouth was going to drive him batty. "Not a - fuck - word."

 

Potter nodded and kissed his way up his throat and over his jaw, his lips full and red and slick with saliva hovering near his as his forehead came to press against Draco's, coming too tantalizingly close to the one rule he wasn't willing to relent. "Anything." Potter promised in a moan and Draco stared at his mouth, open with panting breaths, Potter's heavily lidded green eyes peering at him without the obstruction of his lenses that had mysteriously vanished. The irises were so very, very dark, making Draco gasp as he picked up the pace, grinding his hips forward with a frenzied fervor - desperate to make the pressure on his chest lift and send him careening into the abyss if only for a moment.

 

But Potter didn't try to kiss him, he just kept his mouth there, centimeters from Draco's own, sharing their gasping breaths and feeling the others nearly silent moans on their lips like a feather light caress. It was torture, pure fantastic torture and Draco found his hands suddenly back in Potter's hair, twisting through the silky strands as he held the Auror's head and rode the waves that were building in him. Waves that were threatening to crush him because they had never done anything like this, their faces this close, their eyes locked and lips nearly touching.

 

The urge to close that distance was nearly overwhelming, debilitating, a cruel taunt he knew he couldn't give into. There would be no coming back from kissing Potter, no matter what else their bodies did. He just knew, somewhere in the deepest part of his heart that if he started kissing him that he wouldn't be able to stop. Ever.

 

It was the look that flashed through those green orbs and that mouth that trembled and cursed with a loud groan that sent Draco tumbling - that made his hands tighten and his eyes spring wide and his body tense. That made him lose sense of anything else as he became instantly sticky - the weight of Potter's cock on his thigh, rubbing and rubbing and rubbing, making his orgasm surge on and on longer then he was prepared for.

 

Then Potter's lips were forming words - or one word in particular - a word he had heard yelled, spat, muttered in disdain, said with curiosity, whispered in uncertainty, called, and laughed, a word he couldn't deal with hearing now. Not when he was barely coming to grips with this new arrangement. His arm felt heavy, his body completely sated, and his mind in a complete panic as he slapped a hand over Potter's mouth, cutting the word off before any sound could be made. Potter pumped his hips once more than his eyelids twitched, his teeth sank softly into Draco's palm and he came with a flood of wet warmth - sagging against him, using Draco and consequently the wall to keep them both up.

 

Potter was heavy and his pants were uncomfortable in the mess of his own cum but Draco couldn't seem to gather the energy to move. Instead his hand slid from Potter's mouth to his shoulder, hanging there as he stared at the dark head illuminated in the soft light that had turned almost to a golden hue sometime during their encounter.

 

It was funny though, the weight in his chest wasn't gone. It was still there, pressing against his lungs, except now it felt different. It felt almost like the moment before he nearly gave in and snogged Potter violently. And if one thing was for certain it was that he wasn't going to walk away from this unscathed.


	7. Chapter 7

"You'll enter behind me."

 

"So you've said already."

 

"Malfoy, this is serious."

 

"I'm taking it seriously."

 

"No, you're not, your being...you."

 

"Elaborate if you want me to catch on, because I find nothing wrong with me."

 

"You know what I mean."

 

"I can't read your traumatized brain Potter."

 

"Enter behind me and stay there till I give the go ahead or I'm taking you right back to the office."

 

"To fix me with that collar you mentioned so I can't go anywhere without you?"

 

"Try me and I will. And it will be pink and sparkly."

 

"That's just sick."

 

"With a leash to boot."

 

"Now you're just trying to provoke me, you twisted tosser."

 

"Are you two finished sniping at each other yet?" Weasley poked his head out of the hospital room door and Potter's lips - that embarrassingly enough seemed redder and puffier than usual - snapped closed around whatever thickheaded thing he was about to come back at him with. "Because if not let me know yeah, so I can go get a sandwich."

 

"We're coming." Draco announced, taking a step forward and purposely keeping his gaze from drifting back to Potter whose hair even after excessive finger combing and a few well directed spells still looked like he had been...well what they had been doing. Draco just hoped Weasley wouldn't notice considering Potter's hair always looked like it was on the wrong side of a hurricane.

 

"Seriously, not two seconds later." Potter gripped the back of his robes and sent him stumbling back a step, his lean form slipping in front of Draco's like a vigilant body guard. Pansy would be oh so pleased, not that he was going to tell her anything, the nagging bint. "Behind me, remember?"

 

Grumbling under his breath Draco let Potter follow Weasley through the door before he joined them inside the large room. The muggle woman was lying on a hard bed in the middle, surrounded by tables filled with potion bottles and a bubbling cauldron, a floating piece of parchment with an enchanted quill scratching out her vitals just off to her right. "Think she'd assume she was dead if she randomly awoke?" He asked no one in particular as he studied her from over Potter's shoulder.

 

She was still as white as when he first saw her, her hair still wet but the pillowcase supporting her lovely flaxen head was as dry as a summer's day. Her fingernails had gone completely blue, the veins running through her body the same ice color and visible through her near translucent skin. Everything about her was white and blue - winter down to her sodden hair and wrinkly toes. He guessed that her lips would be a violent shade of blue as well if he could see them but there was strip of something covering her mouth, blocking it completely from sight.

 

"What's over her mouth?" He asked quietly, stepping involuntarily closer and knocking into Potter's back when he didn't budge an inch.

 

"It's soaked with a rejuvenation and healing potion and laced with a few anti-curse charms." A soft, whimsical voice said from behind them, a Healer in flowing white robes brushing past them as she came to stand beside the bed - her large brown eyes scanning the parchment in the air. "Might I inquire whom you might be?" She asked, looking straight past both Weasley and Potter and directly at him, her gaze uncomfortably reminiscent of McGonagall - cat like and penetrating.

 

"Specialist Malfoy." He answered, more than a little annoyed when Potter still refused to move from in front of him like some unmovable fortress.

 

"Of?" She quipped an eyebrow and marked something off on the chart in her hands.

 

"Dark Artifacts."

 

"Ah. Welcome, I'm Healer Keller, I assume you're familiar with the patient then?" She set the chart down and folded her hands together behind her.

 

"He was the one who discovered her...predicament." Potter answered.

 

"Good good, smart to bring him along gentlemen." She smiled and Draco took the moment her back was turned to elbow Potter sharply in the side in a ‘ha, told you so’ gesture.

 

"We got a note that something’s changed?" Potter asked, nudging him back sharply with his own.

 

She beckoned them closer with a nod of her head and they did so like a forward moving boat on a track - as one unit with Draco forced to remain firmly behind the pair of them. He scowled at their shoulders. How was he supposed to get anything done from behind them? "It was in between the rounds this morning, a mediwitch was changing her bedclothes when she noticed this." Kellen flicked her wand and the girl’s thin, limp arm lifted into the air, turning until the palm was facing upwards.

 

Narrowing his eyes and pressing closer to Potter's back, Draco squinted at her pallid skin, the faintest marking in the same blue of her veins twisting over the inside of her wrist - it was about the same size as the disk. He knew it without a shadow of doubt, he had spent far too much time holed up in his office studying it not to notice the marking for what it was when his vision adjusted and he was able to take it all in.

 

"What is it?" Weasley asked, his head tipped in curiosity.

 

"The disk." Draco answered before the Healer had even parted her lips.

 

"What?" Potter peered at him from over his shoulder.

 

"The markings. See the pattern its making? It's following the same path the green did on all the disks and it's the exact same size." He answered as he met Potter's eye, noticing with a funny little jolt that he was smiling a little, even though there was nothing to be smiling about in the least.

 

"You're certain?" Healer Keller asked to which Draco nodded. "We had wondered but it's impossible to get a good look inside her mouth, the water there has taken on a nearly pitch black hue."

 

Draco's gaze darted quickly away from his smiling lips and over to the woman lying on the bed in horror. "The water is still in her mouth?" He asked, his voice coming out a tad choked. "Why hasn't it been removed?"

 

"We've tried but the moment we began draining it, her vitals slipped even further and there's barely anything left of her as it is." She explained. "And due to the strange and complex nature of her case we have started to concentrate our efforts on that particular area. We've placed the cloth over it in hopes that the potion will seep into the water and produce some kind of effect."

 

"Has it?" Potter asked.

 

"Unfortunately not yet. The only change there's been is the marking that's shown up on her wrist. We don't have any idea what it could be, no one has ever seen anything like it, especially on a muggle of all people whose bodies cannot usually tolerate the presence of magic like this for so long."

 

"Could you remove it?" Draco asked, to which Potter said his name very quietly, Weasley shot him a nervous look, and the Healer hesitated as she glanced between the three of them. "Only for a moment?" He pressed on, ignoring the two Auror's and the tension that rippled suddenly across Potter's shoulders.

 

"I don't see why not." She answered after a moment’s deliberation.

 

"Wait." Potter ordered before turning sharply to Draco. "Are you sure? What if...?" He left the rest unsaid because it didn't need to be and when all Draco did was stare resiliently back at him, he sighed and rolled his shoulders back. "Fine. But the first sign of something being off and we're leaving."

 

With a swift nod, he stepped around Potter and up to the bedside, waiting and listening with all that was in him. It was odd, when he concentrated on it, on the girl completely, he could tap back into the feeling of suspension but it was different then at the house. Now it was just her being held still, almost like he could see time rushing around her in air currents but not touching a single hair on her head. It flowed and rippled over her, pressing in places like it was trying, trying to connect, like she was some sort of reverse black hole - pushing out instead of sucking in.

 

When he touched her, his fingers lightly tracing over the mark on her wrist, it felt just like when he had been electrocuted when he had accidentally touched that damn wire around a muggle's field once. It jolted up his arm and singed his nerves raw. But unlike with the wire fence, the pain kept going and going, like his fist was clamped tight around it. Potter was at his side, saying his name softly again, but he ignored him, trialing his fingers away even though it still hurt and hurt in an unending kind of way. Then he was touching the potion soaked cloth and with a deep breath he pulled it away and immediately felt like he had been plunged under an icy lake.

 

The screaming started in his bones, his face screwed up, his lips gasped, and he could see the disk glowing in the murky water - disjointed, fuzzy images like he was wearing Potter's glasses playing behind his eyes for all but a second before the pain seared in his head and he felt himself squeezing away. With a cry his knees crumbled under him, strong arms around his waist as he was pressed back until he felt the edge of a desk digging under his arse.

 

"Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth." Potter's voice was in his ear and with a wave that felt like acid washing over him, it all faded away and he was left feeling horribly numb with Potter's chest smashed against his as he held Draco up between him and the desk.

 

In their cubicle. Potter had Apparated them away and he had barely even noticed.

 

"Just...breathe okay?"

 

"I'm not in fucking labor." Draco snapped, but his tone was shaky and hoarse like he had been screaming and his body was throbbing from head to toe again.

 

"No you're just a sadistic idiot." Potter grumbled back with what sounded like a relieved little laugh. "Feeling better?"

 

"How about I wrap you in some muggle electric wire then throw you in the ocean and see how you feel? Oh and add a few dementors so all your happiness can get sucked out while you listen to a woman screaming in your soul." He grumbled, sounding more tired than he intended and even though he knew he should be pushing away from Potter he couldn't bring himself to - not when he was feeling like a human icicle and Potter felt like a furnace on a winters day.

 

"That's...that's how it feels?" Potter asked quietly and Draco nodded against his shoulder. "Merlin you are barmy."

 

"Say's the man who voluntarily hunted for horcruxes around the country for a year." He murmured, his weight sinking back into the desk behind him as feeling slowly started seeping back into his toes.

 

"Not voluntarily, more like out of necessity, and how do you even remember that? You were pissed out of your mind when I told you about that." Potter pulled back slightly, his arms still tight around Draco's waist, but now he was far enough away that he could see the concern in his green eyes. It was that soft expression again that Draco had absolutely no clue what to do with.

 

It made him uneasy and with a forced smirk, he pushed himself back onto the desk, forcing Potter to slip even further away from him until only their legs were touching. "I have a brilliant memory even while intoxicated, best not forget, I get the most wonderful blackmail material that way."

 

"Still a sneaky Slytherin at heart, I see." Potter snickered, a glass appearing in his hand with a carefree flick that quickly filled with cool, clear water before he pressed it into Draco's palm.

 

"Of course." He sipped the water, the cool liquid soothing his sore throat.

 

"So it happened again? Was it just like last time?"

 

"It was," Draco paused, his fingers toying over the rim of the glass. His hands were still freezing and if he strained his eyes it was almost as if the water was frosting over, spidery cracks of ice forming on its surface. But he knew that wasn't really happening, he'd close his eyes, breathe deep, and when he opened them again the frost was gone until he let his vision slip again - almost like he was seeing two planes of existence at once. "Colder."

 

"You're starting to make as much sense as me these days." Potter sighed with a lopsided smiled that didn't quite reach his eyes.

 

Draco nodded and went back to sipping his water, an uneasy silence settling around them that refused to break until Weasley came popping up a few minutes later - a sandwich for each of them in a brown paper sack, which he apparently procured after assuring the Healer that everything was fine, taking a few photos of the woman's wrist, and asking a couple questions.

 

Which meant they had been in the cubicle for quite some time and whether those moments were lost as he was gripping Potter and disoriented or if they had slipped by unnoticed as he stared at Potter's leg and sipped his water, he had no clue. But they felt stolen, a feeling he was starting to get more and more lately.

 

It sent a shiver of apprehension down his spine.

 

He and Potter picked at their sandwiches while they each filled out their respective reports. As he plucked out a piece of lettuce and stuck it in his mouth, he pondered his wording, knowing that everything that had been happening with him and the disks couldn't ever be properly explained. And while that was frustrating beyond measure - words had never failed him before - he found that it was actually concerning him very little. Instead, as he stared at the few short sentences he had managed to scratch out, all he could picture was the muggle woman who looked so familiar, lying in a perpetual sodden state - the fuzzy images he had seen for the briefest of moments when he had removed the cloth trying desperately to come into focus.

 

He shivered again and hugged himself tightly.

 

****

 

"Have you ever been under the Imperius curse?"

 

Blaise lifted his dark eyes with a questioning tilt, the cigarette between his fingers halfway towards his already parted lips. He let his gaze that always felt too knowing run over Draco's face as he considered him and the question - the warm night air blowing a gentle summer breeze around them as they idly strolled through the park. He placed the white stick lightly to his mouth, glanced around quickly at the few muggles off in the distance and mumbled something sharp and quick - the tip sparking to light. He inhaled deeply, flicked the smoldered end, and then shrugged lightly. "Professor Moody in fourth year. Though I have a feeling that's not where you're going with this."

 

Draco kicked lightly at the ground, his hands deep in his cashmere peacoat, the material perhaps a little warm for the night, but he couldn't seem to shake the feeling of frosting over since his trip to the hospital that afternoon. It had settled in his bones as much as in his mind and he took the small comfort the material wrapped around his willowy frame offered. "Not quite, no."

 

"The war then?" Blaise asked, without looking straight at his friend, knowing Draco well enough to know that in moments like this - when his shoulders were slumped and his hair was a hairs breath away from perfect, when the pulse under his right eye started ticking - that he was extremely skittish. And prone to bursts of anger. Not meeting his eye helped, he had learned that not long after their first year together at Hogwarts. Draco needed an illusion of privacy if he was going to muster up the words he wanted to get out. Shoulder to shoulder or back to back was best when anything hinting at the past surfaced.

 

"Yes."

 

Blaise was silent and Draco tried not to tug his jacket closer to his body. It wouldn't do any good anyway. The cold wasn't going anywhere. "Not me but Mother was." He paused and chuckled a dark sound that was bitter to the core. "Suppose that was good enough for the both of us."

 

Draco didn't respond to that, there wasn't anything to say, he knew that just like him Blaise would do anything to protect his mother. The war had happened, it had sliced into all of them, sitting in the past did nothing but make bitterness grow until it choked the life out of you. His father had been a prime example of that. He kicked a rock and scowled at the ground.

 

"Why?"

 

Glancing up, Draco watched the dark curve of Blaise's head in the setting sun, why was a good question. He didn't know why his brain kept going back to that one specific curse when he thought about the muggle girl and the disks. He didn't know why it hurt his head whenever he found himself thinking on it for too long, only to come up without one single answer and a fuzzy brain. He didn't know why he felt the need to speak to Blaise about it either. He couldn't tell him about the case, it was confidential, and yet - here they were. "Something has been happening at work and I can't piece any of it together. It's all a mess. There's moments where I...I feel like I've been walking around inside others body but it doesn't fit with anything." He grimaced at his botched explanation, sighing at the foolhardy idea this had been to begin with.

 

"What does that have to do with the Imperius curse?" He asked, flicking his fizzled cigarette to the ground to be squished beneath his shoe.

 

"Hell if I know." Draco tipped the collar of his peacoat up as a shiver passed down his spine, tingling all the way up his neck. He was sick of shivering, it was starting to make his teeth rattle in his head.

 

"Just a feeling?" Blaise wasn't looking at him again, he was staring at a tree in the distance - a giant oak with a boy cast completely in shadows scurrying across its thick branches. He didn't answer either as he watched Blaise's profile, his silence all the confirmation the other needed. "Well Draco, I don't know what to tell you but," he paused and slid his gaze to catch Draco's gray eye's just briefly, but it was enough, it said it all. "Shortchanging your instincts never goes very well in the end."

 

****

 

Potter's super-secret crime scene that he had to sign a gag restraint to see and then proceeded to get chased away by horrible muggle children looked exactly the same as it did a little over a week ago. The river's edge was littered with pebbles and coarse grains of sand, what still stood of the house a hard silhouette behind him.

 

But Draco wasn't interested in the ash littering the grass, only the water before him that was sitting smooth and still in the moonlight. This was where the boy, a muggle only 17 years old, had been found with a boulder on his chest to keep him from floating to the surface. Draco hadn't seen the boy under the water, or even in the hospital after he had been drudged up and proclaimed dead. He had only heard Potter's rant, listened to Potter's harsh breathing in his ear at the club that same night, and tried not to think about what he might have looked like as he set himself to working out the disk the next morning.

 

It wasn't even the first murder. Wasn't the first disk to grace his office. But it was that murder, that boy that had changed it all. It made little sense why he thought that, even to himself. It wasn't something coherent or remotely simple. Nothing about this case was turning out to be simple.

 

He didn't even know the boy’s name. He didn't know if he had shown up on site the day they found him if perhaps...the nameless boy would be lying beside the woman in the hospital right now. Alive but dead.

 

His shoe, black leather and worn from years of use, was soaked in a matter of moments as he took a single step forward. He watched his foot sink further, watched the water rise up around it. He was missing something, something was slipping from him about everything that was happening. He felt like he had all but the last chapter of a book, it was all there, laid out before him and yet he couldn't piece it together.

 

All he could think was that he was fucking freezing, that the last two dead (well almost) bodies were too close, and his mind felt like something was splitting it open with a paring knife. Blaise told him to trust his instincts, that they tended to lead him in the right direction if he paid close enough attention but this...what were his instincts even telling him?

 

They told him to put the disk underwater.

 

They told him that the girl was alive.

 

They hounded him with the vague feeling of skidding along a memory that perhaps wasn't even his - or perhaps it was.

 

****

 

"Malfoy?" Potter had obviously been in bed, the shirt he had pulled on was backwards and the red sleep pants were rumpled with a pillow crease on his right cheek. He blinked and wiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm, his glasses smashed against his forehead before dropping crookedly back in place. "Are you alright?"

 

"Yes, fine." Draco waved away the question, momentarily guilty over the fact of haven woken the insomnia riddled man, before a violent shiver shot through him and he pushed his way inside. "Could you light a fire?" He asked as he wound his way towards Potter's study, the old house’s floorboards creaking under his footsteps.

 

"...Okay." Potter was blinking and rubbing at his eyes again, peering at Draco like maybe he thought he had stumbled into some sort of bizarre dream. Perhaps they both had, that at least would shed some light on things. "Are you - fuck Malfoy!" He jerked as Draco laid his hand over Potter's exposed forearm, knowing the cold would send a jolt of alertness through his system. "You're freezing! What the hell have you been doing?" He asked, his eyes wide and finally all the way awake, his gaze flashing to the window that showed the dark street beyond it.

 

"Walking." He turned back towards the study, the sound of Potter scrambling after him helping to calm his jittery nerves a little.

 

"It's the middle of the night." Potter countered but he was waving a hand and the fire in the hearth roared to life. "Have you been home yet?"

 

"No." Draco dropped to this knees before the blazing warmth, holding his hands out and sighing as the first lick of heat curled over his frozen fingers. It was unsatisfying though, even as the heat rushed over him it only penetrated so far, warming just the surface of his skin but refusing to sink any lower and eradicate the cold from his blood and bones - the pillar of ice that had taken up residence sometime during his aimless wandering remaining unaffected. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of charred wood and hint of smoke - he figured he shouldn't love the smell of fire, not with his past. But he found that over the years, after the deepest pains of Crabbe’s death simmered to the back of his being, that it comforted him, it made him think of the day everything finally changed for him.

 

"Here." Potter spoke softly from behind him, a heavy blanket dropping carefully over his shoulders and encasing him in wool. "You look like a Popsicle."

 

"Thank you." He murmured, tugging the blanket closer, Potter's scent replacing that of the fire. "I need to talk to you."

 

"I figured as much." Potter frowned, lowering himself to the ground beside Draco to sit cross-legged, his fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. "God I can feel you from here."

 

"Then shift over." Draco grumbled, tugging the blanket tighter to his chest.

 

"No that's not...I didn't mean - want some tea?"

 

"What was the boy's name?" Draco asked, staring into the flames as he did so.

 

"The - who?"

 

"The boy who died at the river a few weeks back. What was his name?" He felt Potter tense, saw his hand curl into a tight grip on his knee.

 

"Colin Martin." Potter answered after a moment’s pause. "Why?"

 

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. And the girl's?"

 

He could feel Potter staring at him closely now, could feel the intensity of his gaze and the curiosity that it held. "Olivia Tress. Why are you asking this now?" He asked and Draco knew that he wasn't referring to his lapse in inquiring earlier - the blonde was hardly one to care about personal details of the cases he assisted on. He liked the distance his job usually afforded him, liked Potter handing off the artifacts and puzzling them out. He didn't like putting a face to the deceased and he didn't like adding a name on top of it all.

 

"I don't know." He repeated because it was the truth. He didn't know why he suddenly needed to know, why standing on the bank of the river had reduced him to this - to seeking out Potter in the middle of the night to...what? Ask for names to add to the graveyard in his head? Merlin he felt like a dementor was hanging over him, something outside himself that was keeping him from shaking off the gloom that he was typically capable of leaving at the office door.

 

That and the last moment he had felt even remotely warm was when Potter had held him in his arms.

 

He glanced up and caught Potter's eye only to realize belatedly that the other man had spoken and he had missed it completely. Those green orbs were gazing at him with something bordering on ferocity. A tension in Potter's neck that Draco knew meant he was leashing himself back from doing something, his magic almost lifting off him like a crackling whip in the heat heavy room around them. The dark haired man had matured into a very capable wizard, powerful and kind, but it was moments like these that reminded Draco of the boy that he had been.

 

Potter may have grown up but he still felt everything on the very edge of his sleeve. He held it there wide open for all too see, his emotions going from zero to sixty faster than any broom ever made when something pricked at that bleeding heart of his. Mentioning the death of the boy Draco knew would set him on edge, would bring out the nail to pound into him. But while he knew Potter's hand was clenching over the remembered dead body, the tight line of his lips were coming from an entirely different source. So when he reached out and touched Draco's cheek with his burning finger tips it shouldn't have been a surprise. Draco was cold, Potter was warm, and the man was always the martyr.

 

But it was and it made him ache.

 

"Are you still...from the hospital?" He asked with his eyes glued to his fingers on Draco's pale skin. And maybe it was the first time, maybe it was a repeated question - Draco didn't know and he wasn't planning on answering. Instead he bit his tongue and looked away, shrugging the blanket off with a quick jerk of his shoulders and consequently dislodging Potter's hand from his face as well.

 

It didn't belong there anyway.

 

"Malfoy?"

 

"My apologies for waking you." He muttered quickly and without glancing down to read Potter's expression, fled from his house as quickly as he could - just like the coward he tried so hard not to be. But this had been a gigantic mistake. He should have waited to seek out the names at the office, he should have never sought out Potter because now his cheek was finally warm where the man had touched him and the rest of him was still ice.

 

He was freezing from the inside out and he had no clue why.


	8. Chapter 8

"Ow Gin, stop it!"

 

Draco's foot halted in midair, his head cocking to the side as he came to a full stop before the opening to their shared cubicle. He could hear bodies scrambling just inside, the thunk of knees on a desk, the soft thwack of elbows in flesh - the ringing sound of a woman's snickering laugh and Potter's lame attempts to get her to stop. He clenched his coffee mug and glared at the gray partition.

 

It had been 11 years since Hogwarts and just the sound of her voice still made him feel like getting mauled by a hippogriff.

 

When Draco had first started working at the Ministry, and therefor with Potter, he had seen far too much of her. As the girlfriend of the famed man she liked to pop by just to shower him with kisses in public places and make sure everyone knew who he belonged to. It was like witnessing a dog marking her territory with her captive prey blushing like an idiot.

 

It didn't even matter if he was in a meeting with Draco, she would strut in, plop herself down on Potter's lap and smile her toothy smile with her lips that seemed far too pale in comparison to her fiery head - offhandedly flinging comments about like, "oh I'm sorry Harry, were you busy?" with a pointed look his way like Draco was nothing more than a speck of mud on Potter's boot. It had thankfully been over a year since the last time he had laid eyes on her, the ginger-headed attention whore slinking back to whatever mundane existence she lived when the man finally had enough of her and ended it.

 

Merlin the Prophet had had a field day over that, hounding Potter for weeks over the reason - to which he would just smile tightly, decline any comment, and turn and walk away. There were rumors though. One article suggested that Potter was too emotionally damaged from all he had scarified for the good of all to carry on a healthy relationship, another one offering up the idea that he was married to his work, another insisting that Ginevra had been a cheating slut and deserved to be sacked, and outlandishly enough another one hinting at a cross continent romance with some princess who resided in an exotic foreign land. They were all idiotic and each one tended to make Draco bite into his tongue while he read them over breakfast.

 

Honestly it was as if none of the authors had even met Potter before, even he knew that it couldn't have been any of the reason they had given.

 

"Just give it up Harry, you know I'll get it out of you one way or another." Ginevra Weasley taunted in a sing-song voice to which there was another thump and a quick curse from Potter.

 

"There's nothing to tell!" Potter insisted and his voice sounded constricted like something - or someone - was sitting on his stomach.

 

Ms. Weasley snorted. "Right, right, I'll believe that when George becomes the History of Magic Professor at Durmstrang. And you're forgetting that I know you Harry."

 

Draco's stomach clenched along with his jaw, the mention of Potter's past knowing an unwelcome reminder, even though it shouldn't have been. What did it matter that he had dated that tart? He had no cause to be jealous, Potter wasn't his in any way, shape, or form, unless of course one counted getting off in clubs and dark storage cupboards - which Draco firmly didn't. That was simply so they didn't kill each other.

 

"When did you - ow! - become so violent?" Potter grumbled but there was a laughing note to his tone that made Draco's hand clench even tighter, his knuckles white on the black mug.

 

"I'll have you know that I've successfully worked through my rage in those courses after you gave me the toss so you could suck dick."

 

"Ginny!" Potter squeaked in that horrified sounding voice of his just as Draco took an involuntary step closer. Merlin was that really why they had ended things? Or more importantly - because obviously Draco knew Potter did like to suck dick - had he actually given that as his reason for high tailing it out of their fairy-tale romance? Had he actually sat the wench down and said, "So Gin, I'm so so sorry but I just can't take another month of your fanny. I've got a gigantic craving for cock. So so sorry but yeah..." while blushing and shuffling his feet against the carpet?

 

Or more likely it came out as one big nervous fumble that didn't make any sense at all but still - didn't Potter know that you were supposed to lie when breaking it off with the fairer sex?

 

"What?" Ginevra laughed. "Oh come on Harry, isn't it about time you came out? People are bound to find out anyway if you insist on-"

 

"Ginny can we please not talk about this here." Potter pleaded and Draco could vividly picture the extreme blush that would be gracing Potter's face and neck and probably even his chest beneath his robes right about now.

 

"Fine, you tell me what I want to know and I'll seal my lips." She sounded so smug then, like Potter had just walked headlong into her trap.

 

"Low, Gin, really low." Potter grunted, a faint scrapping sound and the rustle of fabric. “It’s really n-"

 

"Ah you didn't have to wait for me."

 

"Merlin." Draco jumped, his coffee sloshing over the top of his hand as Weasley's breath ghosted over the shell of his ear as he spoke in a soft, chuckling voice. He whipped his head to the side quickly and fought a blush at the man's blasted knowing smile and twinkling eyes. He was standing just behind him with his arms crossed over his Auror robes and giving Draco a pointed look that said he knew exactly what he had just caught him doing. Bugger. "I was just..." He started uselessly.

 

Weasley shrugged, like that solved it all, as if he hadn't just caught Draco eavesdropping on his sister and best friend. "Don't blame you mate." He said quietly with a small lift of his shoulder towards the cubicle. "Ginny still loathes your slimy evil guts. Her words not mine. Best keep your distance unless you’re keen for another afternoon of Harry carefully reversing her hexes."

 

"I'll just work in a broom cupboard then shall I?" Draco snapped, annoyed that the she-weasel was there, annoyed that she had probably pulled Potter's secret from him, annoyed that he been caught, and frankly just annoyed that she simply existed at all. Wasn't there already enough Weasley's in the world without her souring their lineage?

 

"I suppose you could or you might just wait a moment and have Harry all to yourself. She's here cause we're meeting up for lunch. Your call though, I hear the cupboard on the fifth floor is rather roomy." With a crooked smile and wink at Draco’s incredulous expression, Weasley gave him a pat on the back and sidestepped him.

 

Draco watched him disappear with a pronounced frown, the light dusting of fine hair on his arms standing on end as the ice in his blood pumped faster with the course of his heart - his feet caught in a half turn as he debated what to do. Flee to Damaris's office for the next several hours or weather the weaslette’s unnecessary wrath for a few moments. All in all it came down to the question of would he rather smell boiled cabbage all afternoon or risk a hex and his eyesight on such a horrid woman? Perhaps he could sneak in and just retrieve the file he needed -

 

"Merlin's beard Gin what in the hell did you do to your hair?"

 

Draco turned sharply and started forward, the gasp in Weasley's voice sealing his decision - he sounded utterly horrified. Two beats later he was standing beside the tall man and staring with narrowed eyes at the woman perched on Potter's desk with her feet planted firmly on her ex-boyfriends chest as he sat stiffly in his chair - his own green eyes staring at her with no small amount of apprehension.

 

"Cut it." She replied flippantly without turning, which was an enormous understatement. The young Seeker's hair was shorter than his, clipped so close in the back that he could see the curve of her scalp, and slightly longer in the front so it swept sideways over her brow. But that wasn't even the most shocking - terrible as it was - no, the worst of it was the glaring blonde hue that had replaced her auburn tresses. No it wasn't just blonde, it was nearing white, boarding on Draco's own shade but completely missing the beauty of it. It looked dry, like her hair had suffered some sort of heat stroke, and conflicted so horribly with her skin tone that she looked like a washed out plastic shop dummy. "Now stop dodging Harry, I grew up with five brothers remember."

 

"Erm." Potter hemmed, rubbing at his neck, his gaze jerking over to Weasley and then to Draco with a pronounced jump of his shoulders. "How long...?" He croaked.

 

Ginevra swung her head around, following Potter's gaze, her lips curling into a rather familiar sneer at the sight of him. Merlin she looked even more frightening straight on, what in the world had she been thinking? "What are you doing here?" She spat.

 

"Working." Draco deadpanned. "You on the other hand seem to be lost, curse breaking is on the fourth floor of St. Mungos." He drawled with his signature smirk, his cool gray eyes sliding pointedly up to her atrocious hair. 

 

"Laugh all you want Ferret but Witch Weekly did a full spread on my new look." She bit back haughtily, jerking her head as if to flip her long mane - of course she didn't have any hair left to flip so instead she just ended up getting a piece stuck in her eyelashes that she had to bat away grumpily.

 

"I can see how they'd use you as their fashion don't of the month." Draco retorted just as Weasley sputtered out an, "Oh fuck Gin, has mum seen you yet?" and Potter mumbled something completely unintelligible under his breath that sounded something along the lines of "It's...not bad." Which was a clear and utter lie, Draco knew that Potter found it just as repulsive as the rest of them - his eyes squinting in that way they did when he was faced with eating a meal that wasn't at all to his taste.

 

"Mum will love it and thank you Harry." She glared at him and Weasley and smiled at Harry all at once, a very odd look indeed.

 

"You look like a botched Veela Halloween costume! How did you even do that?" Weasley wailed, starting to look truly distressed.

 

Ginevra slipped from the desk and propped a fist on her hip, her long skinny frame just as boyish as ever. "Hair dye. It's a muggle thing." She explained, her face going quickly red with that rage she had supposedly worked through. "Besides I don't see -"

 

But Draco had stopped listening, inadvertently catching Potter's eye as he watched him from behind the desk, his skin pricking at the question in that gaze. Draco gathered up his courage and stared right back despite the fact that it was making the chill that hadn't stop blowing across his skin since the incident at the hospital kick up a notch. A shiver ran through him, his toes curling in his shoes, his one empty hand curling up into the sleeve of the thick cloak he wore.

 

He had done a stellar job of avoiding Potter since barging into his house that night, holing himself up in his flat over the weekend and then making sure they were never alone, never even near each other for more than a few moments come Monday morning. He had paid careful attention not to look Potter in the eye, not to let the other man touch him - not even the simplest brush of fingers on his arm - he was vigilant in keeping his head down and drowning himself in his research.

 

Book after book he consulted. Pages filled with script that had started to blur together the longer he looked at them and yet he still held no answers and whenever he closed his eyes those fuzzy images he had glimpsed while touching Olivia came fluttering back. So did the screaming. He felt like he was just as surely going to go deaf as he was going to turn into a pillar of ice. The only consolation he had was that there hadn't been another murder attempt, no more disks had surfaced, and Olivia was still in her state of suspension in the hospital.

 

And until that moment Potter hadn't managed to catch him off guard - though not for lack of effort. The man had been persistently trying to get Draco to talk to him, tried everything he could think of to catch him off guard, tried to get him to just react when nothing else worked. Now Weasley and his sister were all but shouting at each other over her new hair style (or maybe now it had morphed into something she had done over the winter holidays from snippets he picked up here and there) and Draco was caught by that gaze alone.

 

"Mum still has it stuck to the clock like that will change anything but do you even -" Weasley shouted as Potter's lips parted just slightly, his head tipped minutely to the side.

 

"Oh get over yourself Ron, I'm a big girl I can make my own decisions!" Ginny flung back as Draco's stomach knotted further, an itch starting at the nape of his neck.

 

"Fucking selfish Gin! Don't you even think about what all this is doing to dad?!" Weasley kicked at his desk as the weight in Draco's eyelids forced them down, the intensity in Potter's eyes asking too much as it raged with Blaise's voice and the screaming inside his head.

 

He didn't have answers. He didn't know why. Hell he felt like he was starting to realize that he knew absolutely nothing. And that was bloody terrifying. Yet it wasn't even startling when there was a tugging on the side of his cloak, his brain somehow connecting that this was right, that Protective Potter would be pulling him gently away and down the hall. He didn't even bother looking up, he just let his tired eyes focus dazedly on his shoes as they weaved through the throng of cubicles, through a door, down a hall, and through another door until the noise that he had been growing accustomed to hearing every single moment was no longer ringing around him.

 

It was silent and Draco breathed that in. It settled him and he brought his eyes up and up, over Potter's lean form and up to his face once more. He was still holding Draco's cloak, the heavy fabric bunched into his fist.

 

"You look haunted." Potter spoke with uncharacteristic insight and a furrowed brow, his fingers tightening further.

 

"Simply tired." Draco looked away, down at the hand on his cloak, at Potter's fingers that held so much power and strength. He wondered how many times Potter had killed with that hand - a careful flick, a muttered curse, and most importantly of all, feeling. One had to mean it to kill and as he stared at Potter's wand hand, knowing he could, knowing he had, Draco couldn't picture it - couldn't converge the Potter he knew and the Potter who stole the light from dark wizards and witches eyes.

 

Draco couldn't use the killing curse any longer. He didn't even have to try to know he couldn't. It wasn't cowardliness or fear or lack of power either, it was the intent that he lacked. The feeling. The thought of causing by his own will anymore death making him slightly ill.

 

"That's not it." Potter muttered, his hand leaving Draco's cloak to travel along his arm and down to his hand. "You're still ice."

 

"Well it's cold."

 

"No, it's bloody stuffy in here and you’re nearly shaking with a chill." His fingers brushed Draco's, pure heat on frozen digits and Draco sucked in a sharp breath. "You need to see a Healer."

 

"I don't."

 

"Malfoy somethings wrong, you can't argue that. You haven't been yourself for days." Potter pleaded, somehow sounding stern and gentle at once. It wasn't the tone of Protective Potter or Hero Potter or even Work Potter. He couldn't place it, it was like...he truly cared.

 

Draco jerked his hand away and took a steadying step back, putting some distance between them. "I'm fine, nothing a Healer can fix at any rate."

 

"This is still about the disks and the woman isn't it? Are you - I mean does it - has something else happened? Have you found out anything?"

 

"Do you think I could kill?" Draco heard himself asking, staring down at his own hand like it didn't belong to him but was spliced from another and attached to him while he was sleeping. Except he hadn't been sleeping. Sleeping meant dreaming and dreaming meant more screaming and ice and people just out of reach...

 

"What?" Potter stopped cold, his entire body seizing up.

 

"Sometimes I think...Imperius is a tricky thing indeed."

 

"Malfoy you're not making any sense, back up and start from the beginning yeah?" Potter tangled his fingers through his hair, his face lined with exhaustion.

 

Draco nodded slowly, tugging his cloak tighter. "A mind that's not your own, bent to another's will, it can overpower anything. It can make you the complete opposite - can make you what nature never intended. A little curse and you're a puppet but what if one of the strings breaks? I'm not talking about resisting, it's more like...shutting down, a bit of your soul rebelling and breaking. What if that break causes a disconnect that just sits there, gathering dust, unnoticed until you try to be you again but your step is different. Your mind is different. You see different. What if you ignore it and just keep living your life until another string breaks and other. What then, are you you anymore or just a fragment? A puppet, a mutation forever?"

 

Potter didn't respond right away, he just stared at Draco with his mouth slightly parted in puzzlement. "I don't - that's not.... I mean I've never seen anything like that and I don't...that doesn't make sense. Where is all of this coming from?"

 

"When you live with Death Eaters you see things." Draco started talking before his mind could even make up a decision to do so, the words spilling out in a desperate attempt to just understand. "There were people held under curses for...months. Not just the Cruciatus either and it changed them. It wasn't always easy to see, mostly it was just glimpses, the way they would hold their fork, the way they would laugh, the flashes in their eye that didn't add up to the things they were saying."

 

"You think the murders are connected to the extended use of curses. To Imperius?" Potter asked carefully, watching Draco's face like he was looking for the flash the blonde had spoken of.

 

Draco shrugged and folded his arms under his cloak and close to his body. "When I was with Olivia I saw things...they weren't clear but it was like I could feel a hand pressing over my will. A controlling touch, it made my bones shake and I can't stop seeing it and hearing her and I can't get bloody warm. I close my eyes and I feel like a puppet with broken strings." Draco put a hand to his face, his fingers brushing over a sweaty brow, his words coming out shaky. "I feel like -"

 

"Shit, Malfoy." Potter cursed, his arm around Draco's waist in a flash as he found himself inexplicably swaying, his body pressed to the long line of Potter's warmth. "When did you sleep last?" 

 

Draco barked out a laugh that hurt his ribs, his body sagging forward in search of more heat. "Can't sleep, it starts all over again when I sleep." His head fell to the crook of Potter's shoulder, his nose inhaling his scent that smelled more of ink than usual. It flooded his scenes and warmth tried to invade the ice inside him, his eyes suddenly too heavy to remain open any longer. "S'warm."

 

Both Potter's arms were around him now, supporting his entire weight and a moment before he felt magic tingling through him and forcing him into sleep he swore he heard Potter whisper in his ear, "don't kill me when you wake up."

 

 

****

 

 

His dream was different. There was no ice, no screaming, no people just out of reach.

 

He dreamed of the Ministry Gala the year before - Potter leaning against the railing overlooking the twinkling garden that stretched out as far as the eye could see, wearing his starched robes that seemed to choke him more than anything else with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a crumpled letter in the other. He seemed completely lost in his own head, his eyes glazed over and staring off without really seeing. He didn't even turn when Draco leaned his back against the same railing, didn't even seem to notice the others presence at all.

 

"The Minister's looking for you." Draco said, letting his gaze slide away from Potter and over the breathtaking garden.

 

And that's when it veered from actual memory to something slightly twisted, because even while immersed in the dream world Draco could remember how Potter had nodded absently at that, how he had tilted his glass and drained it dry. He could still picture the way Potter's lips had pursed, how he had eyed Draco from a slit in the corner of his vision, how his chest had puffed out like he was about to say whatever had been on the tip of his tongue whenever they had found themselves alone that all week. He could remember how Potter had let it deflate with a hiss of air before he turned and was gone. Leaving him to stare out at the night for a few moments longer before slipping unnoticed back to his flat - fleeing from all the poorly concealed disapproval following him all evening.

 

But this was different. The Potter in his dream just turned and smiled. He reached out a hand and threaded it through Draco's hair, using his locks to tug him close until he was pressed between Potter and the railing and then - then he kissed him. He leaned up, tipped his head, and pressed his lips full onto Draco's with a little sigh that made Draco squirm and moan.

 

A simple kiss that felt so real Draco had to remind himself that it wasn't, that he couldn't taste Potter's lips - that getting kissed on the balcony of a Ministry Gala by Potter was as likely to happen as Voldemort himself resurrecting once more from the grave. And yet at the same time he found himself cursing his conscious, wishing wholeheartedly that he could break free from the last thread of reality and fall completely into the dream, into its version of the past.

 

He felt boneless, held up by Potter's strong arms and under the magic he was creating between them, his lips so soft and welcoming and seeking before turning hard and desperate - like Potter knew that the ground was starting to get unsteady beneath Draco's feet and that the moment was seconds away from crumbling. Potter cupped his cheek, tipped his head, and devoured him - his eyes rounding and his lips stretching into a shout in the next second as Draco yanked away from him, his back rushing through black air, Potter getting further and further away until he was only a small dot and his voice a tinkling echo.

 

Draco's heart hurt, his head throbbed, and he was engulfed in water - ice cold and stinging at his eyes, the unfocused sight of a burning house above him. He rushed towards the bottom of the river bed, his lungs burning, the world going dark - all except for a little circle of swirling green, a disk lying beside him with its tentacle arms reaching towards him.


	9. Chapter 9

When Draco awoke his head was clearer than it had been in days, his body sore like he had ridden a broom for hours but otherwise pain free, the screaming that was a constant linger in the back of his mind gone. All that was left as the dream slipped away was a slight chill but even that was less than it had been. Now he was simply cold instead of in danger of turning into the next ice sculpture at a Ministry Gala. He shifted beneath the blankets, a curious weight across his chest forcing his groggy eyes open with a shock.

 

Potter was asleep next to him, his rumpled body sprawled out across the top of the covers with his boots still on his feet and his glasses skewed on his face as if he had simply passed out without meaning too. He was on his stomach with half his face squashed into the pillow and one arm thrown over Draco, like he was still in Protective Potter mode even in sleep.

 

He froze and stiffened, an indignant rant on the tip of his tongue. Because he wasn't at the Ministry, Potter had broken into his flat (again! He really needed to strengthen his wards), tucked him into bad (yet again, Merlin if the man insisted on knocking him out why didn't he just deposit him in some random corner of the office?), and then he was either so tired he had simply fallen forward and passed out himself or he had waited around - fretting like the heroic idiot he was until he to slipped into sleep. Which made a lot of sense if Draco really thought on it, seeing as how little sleep the other had gotten lately.

 

Twin insomniacs it seemed.

 

He should have been outraged, should have been shoving the man off his bed and glaring down at him as he sputtered awake. But...blinking the sleep from his eyes, Draco shifted so he could study the man next to him fully, his heart beating strangely fast in his chest. He had never witnessed Potter quite like this before, the man's face soft and open, his full lips almost a pout, an angry red line under the lightning scar where his glasses were digging into his skin. He didn't look carefree exactly, just more settled. Content.

 

It was strange though, having Potter in his bed was a complete violation of his rules and yet...he had slept, really truly slept for the first time that week and he didn't know if it had to do with his sheer exhaustion, Potter's spell (which he would properly yell at Potter about later), or the fact that the man's arm was curled protectively around him like an unbreakable ward. He felt safe and warm while Potter continued to breathe so deeply Draco doubted that he would wake even if the elusive murderer burst through the door right then and there. Reaching up a tentative hand, he traced a careful finger over the curve of Potter's jaw, not nearly as pointy as his but not boxy either, a near perfect curve to fit his features - a strong line that could make his enemies shiver in fear just as easily as it made his fan club swoon.

 

He had never touched Potter like this, all their times together had been much too fast, all about completion and taking. And now that he had started he couldn't seem to stop.

 

His finger ran up the swell of his cheek, no longer smooth but scratchy with the dark stubble that appeared every evening as the day was drawing to a close. His eyelashes looked thicker and longer in sleep, deep black dusting over his pale skin, and Draco found himself wondering what his eyes would look like as they blinked away sleep - perhaps just like after a particularly spectacular orgasm, unfocused and heavy. His fingers splayed across Potter's cheekbone, his thumb dropping to trace along the man's soft lips.

 

Witch Weekly named Potter their Most Eligible Bachelor at least once a year, he had even received the not so grand honor of being dubbed the Most Kissable Wizard in their latest addition - an article that had all the young witches in the area giggling atrociously whenever Potter stepped anywhere near them. Weasley had laughed outrageously at it, ripping the accompanying picture out and fastening it with an unyielding sticking charm to Potter's desk that took the grumpy man several days to coax off. Draco had snickered along with Weasley as Potter fought with the blasted photo only to find it stuck to the inside of his office door the morning after Potter had triumphed against it.

 

Potter insisted he hadn't done it and Weasley was looking far too innocent for Draco to believe either of them. He had sworn profusely until Damaris breezed by and reminded him that he wasn't a sailor and why didn't he just leave it up - 'because it was such a wonderful picture'. Draco had adamantly refuted that fact as he struggled with removing it, Potter's smiling lips drawing his eye over and over again till he had finally managed to tear it from his door and wipe that smile off the blasted man’s face at the club that night - not stopping until he made that mouth form a perfect O as he was pressed face first into a not so secluded wall with Draco's hands down his pants.

 

Draco abandoned his lips as an all too familiar ache started low in his gut to trace the curve of Potter's nose. Potter was an odd kind of handsome. A kind that had to grow on a person until one day the man they were left standing before was no longer a scrawny, atrociously bespectacled, honor laden man but something more.

 

Something rather beautiful.

 

"Fuck." Draco hissed out, his entire body tipping sideways as he leaned closer, his lips brushing softly over the very corner of Potter's mouth - his tongue peeking out for a split second to taste the other man. His eyes slid shut as his lips lingered, Potter's taste flooding through his mouth and making him want with a blind need. His hand trailed across Potter's shoulder, over his arm, then down his side as his lips moved to brush over his prickly chin. He distantly heard Potter mutter something unintelligible as he pushed with his body until he had rolled the freshly woken man onto his back, the covers kicked off to the end of the bed as Draco swung around so he was sitting atop him. 

 

"Malfoy?" Potter's eyes blinked, his voice groggy and thick, full of incomprehensible question. "What are you...alright?" He asked, blinking rapidly now as Draco sat completely still - his pulse beating fast, his body desperate to taste, and his mind slowing to a crawl that made thinking straight impossible. He shouldn't do this, needed to keep whatever they were doing confined, limited to times and places that he could brush off. Then Potter's hands were gripping his thighs, those strong fingers making warmth bloom beneath the touch and his breath hitch.

 

He wanted to be set on fire - wanted Potter to drive the last of the cold from his blood.

 

Draco dove forward, his hands divesting the Auror of his robes and shirt as Potter gasped until both pieces of clothing laid spread open around him - exposing his toned chest to Draco's hungry gaze. Ignoring the tiny protest in the back of his head, he bent and ran his tongue from Potter's collarbone to one hardening nipple.

 

"Oh god." Potter jerked and Draco felt his hands tighten as he flicked his tongue over the rosy bud, his lips sealing around it and sucking to the sound of Potter's sharp cry - a cry that begged for him to do it again and again. His stomach fluttered as he lavished first one sensitive nipple and then the other, the taste of Potter's skin salty with sweat driving his hands across his sides and over his hips, his fingers dipping to flutter across the skin just below the waist band of Potter's trousers as he crouched above him.

 

"Fuck Malfoy that's...yes." Potter panted as Draco worked the fly of the dark haired man's trousers open with his mouth leaving a wet trail across his chest, the man beneath him moaning and arching into his touch.

 

"Shut up Potter." Draco sat up, the sight of Potter's chest littered with red nips and budding purple bruises making his head spin - his cock hardening further in his pants as he fought against the urge of leaning back down and covering the rest of him until Potter was nothing but a canvas painted with Draco's passion.

 

"Mal-"

 

"Don't say my name." Draco growled as he yanked Potter's trousers down to his knees and wrapped his hand around his cock. Potter was slightly shorter than him but also thicker, the head purple and the shaft a beautiful flush, the weight heavy and hot in his hand. Draco had never had the time to really look at Potter's cock before and now that he did he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from his fingers running up and down it - the sound of Potter gasping as he so obviously bit into his tongue egging him on. Potter bucked as Draco twisted his wrist and reaching up with one hand he pressed his palm against Potter's chest - keeping him flat as he sped up his ministrations, his gaze glued to the beads of precum leaking out the slit.

 

He wanted to bend down and taste it, to run his tongue from his balls to the slit, to probe and mouth and suck until Potter was screaming and spilling into his mouth. He wanted the bitter taste of Potter's cum to coat his tongue then he wanted to bend the man in half and plunge into him, to feel his hole stretch around him as he captured his lips in their first kiss and first real fuck. He wanted to pound into him until Potter couldn't see straight, until there wasn't any cold left in his body.

 

It terrified him how much he wanted. "Merlin." Draco rutted against Potter's leg and glanced up.

 

Potter was groaning a string of broken curses, his face flushed and forehead sweaty, his wide eyes on Draco's hand as his own fingers twisted harshly into the bedsheets. "Please, god please." He whimpered. "Want to feel you with me." 

 

Draco didn't have to be told twice, his hands untucking his shirt tails before fumbling with his fly. He pushed his boxers and trousers down a little as he fell forward - catching himself with one hand at Potter's shoulder. He let out a long curse as his cock slid against Potter's, his forehead dropping atop his hand as Potter reached between them and wrapped his hand around them both.

 

"So good." Potter moaned as his fist pumped, Draco's hips snapping forward as Potter's surged up. Draco dropped his weight on him, pushing forward in an almost painful friction that made his toes curl and a cry erupt from both of them. "Don't stop." Potter's hand squeezed then loosened, pulling completely free to clutch at Draco's shirt on his back. "More, just...yes!...like that, ohhh." He sputtered as Draco grasped his hips and ground forward, his lust soaring higher than ever before with each syllable out of Potter's mouth - the normally quiet man's sounds driving him up a fucking wall with desire.

 

It made him delirious, made him forget himself and the boxes that Potter was supposed to be confined to, made him want to do anything just to make Potter whither and shout. It made him burn.

 

"Fucking scream Potter." He growled into the man's ear as sweat slid down his brow and collected in his hair. "Scream like you want me to fuck your arse."

 

Potter clawed at him and arched harshly, his mouth dropping in a shout. "Yes, fuck me!" He hollered, his legs widening as much as his bunched up trousers would allow.

 

Draco heart thumped, his hips bruising as he pushed against Potter with all of his strength. "Most eligible bachelor." He snickered, his teeth sinking into the man's already spotted neck before lifting is head to stare down at him, his hand pushing into Potter's sweaty curls, twisting and pulling harshly. "If they could see you now, gagging for cock."

 

"Yes." He moaned. "Fuck me. I want your cock in me."

 

"Shit." Draco moaned, jerking back quickly as Potter's mouth opened enticingly wide, like it was just begging for Draco's tongue to dip inside. He ignored Potter's protest as he sat back on his thighs and wrapped his hand back around them both - pumping vigorously. "Going to cum all over you." His eyes were dark and hooded, Potter's body laid out before him, open and eager, making it near impossible to keep that one last thread of a line between them - especially with the new discovering of Potter's filthy mouth. Who knew the savior of all would get off on dirty talk?

 

"Finish yourself." Draco ordered, pulling back slightly as his orgasm neared so that he was jerking just himself, Potter's hand flying to his own prick as he watched Draco hover above him.

 

"Yes, yes, come on me. God, fuck, come on me, please." Potter begged, his eyes following the movement of Draco's hand, a moan spilling long and deep from his throat as the blonde came, his cum spurting in ribbons over Potter's hand and cock and balls - dribbling down into the crease of his arse as he arched and shouted, jerking once more before he was adding to the mess.

 

With a shuddering breath, Draco collapsed backwards, sprawling out at the end of the bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath and still his heart - his eyes squeezing shut tight against the flood of emotion that hit him, threatening to knock the air right back out of his lungs. Without glancing over at Potter and the no doubt tempting sight he would make, Draco slid from the bed and fled to the in-suite bathroom. With a mutter, the sticky sheen covering his body was replaced by the harsh dryness of a cleaning spell, his hands shaking minutely as he tucked himself back into his pants. He kept his eyes averted as he washed his hands and splashed the cool water on his face, rubbing it into the back of his neck and letting it drip under the collar of his shirt.

 

He felt...split. But also warm, so very, very warm.

 

He watched the water run for several long moments before pushing a wet hand through his hair, straightening his clothes as best he could - which really was a complete waste of time considering how rumpled they were - and with as much dignity as he could muster stepped back out into his bedroom.

 

Potter was sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands on his knees, his eyes trained on his shoes, his cheeks still flushed with a lovely pink - his clothes were back in place but in even worse shape than Draco's, his robes abandoned in a ball behind him. He hovered in the doorway, uncertain how to proceed seeing as how they had never done this part before, they had always left before any awkward conversation could begin.

 

"Does the argument start now?" Potter asked quietly, still looking intently at his feet.

 

Draco started, took one step forward, paused and ran a hand over his face - the tone of Potter's voice catching him off guard. "In a fighting mood?"

 

He let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. "No." But he still wasn't looking at Draco, his hands tight on his knees with the disheveled bed beneath him screaming what they had just done. "We should...talk though." He glanced up then, a quick jerk of the eyes beneath his eyelashes, his chin tipping just enough for Draco to catch sight of the array of marks on his neck.

 

Draco swallowed and nodded. "I suppose you have questions. I know I sounded," he paused and rolled his wrist in the air, looking anywhere but at the bruises on Potter's skin. "Unhinged earlier. But I - later alright?" He knew he needed to sit down and hash it all out, needed to spill every last nuance that he felt might - just maybe - help with the case. But he couldn't stomach another long conversation, not now, not when he was feeling both elated and sick over what had just happened, not with Potter sitting on his ruined bed, not with his body still burning from his touch.

 

Potter stared at him, sucking in one deep breath before letting it out slowly. "That's not-" he pursed his lips and glanced back at his hands. "Yeah alright." He was quiet for another moment as he studied the lines on the back of his hand. "I guess I'll be going then." He stood stiffly as he scooped up his robes and swung them over his arm, a hand carding through his horrendous mane. "Get some rest." Potter sighed with his eyes blinking heavily at the former Slytherin, his hand haven fallen from his hair to rub over one particularly deep purple patch under his jaw - lingering there for a moment before his gaze fell to the floor and he walked away.

 

Draco listened to his retreating footsteps down the hall, just barely making out the whoosh of the floo a few beats later, his legs going weak as the fire swept Potter away - his body collapsing forward onto the bed that still smelled of the other man.

 

 

****

 

 

"I'm a fucking idiot." Draco grumbled into the pillow, his hand holding the bottle of gin dangling precariously off the edge of the bed.

 

"Now, now." Pansy chided, the mattress dipping as she plopped down next to him, an awkward hand patting him on the back with two quick smacks. "Self-loathing is never a pretty picture Draco."

 

He grunted and turned his head stiffly, focusing his watery eyes on the woman laying on her back with her dark hair fanned out all around her. "Fuck off." He tried to add some sort of crude gesture but failed halfway through as he found it took far too much work to complete. "Fucking twat."

 

She grinned and studied the half of his face she could make out above the pillow, the red rims and misty quality of his eyes revealing just how far gone he already was. "You rather like that word when you've had a touch too much." She informed him. "Now how about we put a pause on getting pissed up to your eyeballs and you tell me why you're currently moping about like someone just lit your wardrobe on fire."

 

"I will fucking kill him if he lights my wardrobe on fire." Draco growled, lifting his chin just enough to take another swig, the dry liquor multiplying in a delightful heaviness on his tongue and spreading out through his veins. The bottle was more than half gone already, all except a few shots of it currently making its way through his bloodstream and making everything in the room sway like they were on a bloody boat in the middle of the ocean with Blaise drunkenly piloting the vessel.

 

He had absolutely no clue what time it was but the street beyond his windows were shrouded in black which meant he had been drowning himself in the earthy liquor for much too long already - the clear bottle a welcome sight the moment he had pried himself from the bed after Potter had left. Or more accurately, after he had basically kicked the man out. Though why had he kicked him out was starting to get fuzzier and fuzzier the longer he thought on it and the more the level of the liquid went down. Of course why he thought drinking would help him calm down and get everything back in order internally when all it ever did was get him wound up was something of a mystery.

 

Either way he had been drinking for hours and somehow Pansy had gotten thrown into the mix. Though he couldn't quite remember how she had gotten there. Perhaps he had firecalled her?

 

"Who?" Pansy asked, scowling at him as she swiped the bottle away.

 

"Potter." Draco pressed his face back into the pillow, the pillow that still smelled like Potter's inky, woodsy scent mingled with sex. "Fucking Potter." God had he really said those things to him? Had he actually pinned him down and let those filthy things come out of his lips? What in the world had he been thinking? And Potter...merlin Potter had liked it. He had begged for it, screamed for him, and moaned like a slut when Draco had...on him.

 

"Ah, the ever aggravating Harry Potter." Pansy chuckled, making Draco grimace as the sound made his head throb. "What did our wild hero do this time?"

 

"He exists." He mumbled, his voice muffled and off key.

 

"And what did his existence do to make you tip headlong into your liquor cabinet?" Pansy nudged him with her knee, her body looming closer as Draco mumbled incoherently into the pillow. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that, one more time."

 

"We fucked." Draco lifted his face and glared, his stomach rolling with the jerky movement. "Sort of."

 

Pansy stared at him incredulously for a moment, as if she was contemplating how exactly to tell him how dense she thought he truly was. "Draco dear, I hate to break it to you but you've been sort of fucking Potter for almost a year."

 

Draco scowled and flopped onto his back, shutting his eyes as the ceiling rolled right along with his stomach - god he really should have eaten some dinner. "I know." He grunted.

 

"So...I don't see the problem. You like messing around with him don't you?"

 

Draco kept his eyes shut tight and nodded, his hands pressing under his navel in effort to quell the churning.

 

"And he clearly likes it as well." She probed and he nodded again to which she scoffed loudly. "Then what in the world is the matter? You’re acting like he just dumped your sorry arse."

 

"We did it here." Draco mumbled, his tone so low she had to nearly press her ear to his lips to hear him.

 

Pansy snapped her fingers till he begrudgingly pried his eyes back open, her eyebrows arched and a frown on her pink sparkly lined lips. "Yes, I can see how doing it on a bed would just make it so very awful." She said with a pronounced eye roll and a very pointed look. "Was it just too comfortable? Did Potter's hair clash horribly with your sheets? Or was it being horizontal that threw you since you normally just shove him into a wall?"

 

Draco grumbled and jerked the gin back from her, tipping it down his throat and letting it burn away the last of his resistance, leaving him feeling open for all to see. "It's Potter Pansy." He whispered, fiddling with the lip of the bottle. "He's completely insufferable and I can't...I just can't."

 

"You can't what?" She asked, sounding startlingly gentle, her tone something he had only heard a handful of times in his entire life. It unsettle him deeply, making his mind spin, knowing that she was reading something on his face that he hadn't meant to give away - knowing just by that little cadence that he really was bare before her right now.

 

Fuck.

 

He turned away and stared at the wall, a pained sigh escaping him as she slid closer until her front was pressed against his back, her arm sneaking loosely around his waist. He felt like he was back at school, back to being seventeen when the world was falling apart around them, back when Pansy would sneak her way into his bed and hold on - squeezing him so tight as if to make sure he didn't float away on a gust of wind. "I just can't...not with him."

 

"Have you asked him? He might surprise you considering he seems to be rather attached to you as it is." She pressed her hand over his, stilling his fidgeting fingers on the bottle that was nearly tipping over on its side, inches away from soaking his bed.

 

"He's a closet gay who likes to suck my dick to keep from throttling me on the job."

 

"Must be a big closet to fit you inside it as well." Pansy chuckled, her forehead touching the back of his neck and Draco could nearly feel her debating her next words, her next step. "Would it really be so bad?"

 

"Would what be?"

 

"Admitting you like him. Not his cock or the way he blows you but him."

 

He thought of Potter as a teenager with snow in his hair, wrapped in those horrid red and gold scarfs, laughing with his friends. He thought of Potter on their first day working together, stiffer than a strip of lumber, his mouth a hard line, his eyes a narrowed glare that followed each and every movement Draco made. He thought of the day that look started to shift, started to soften. He thought of the first time he ever heard Potter laugh, not near him, not at him, but with him. He thought of the first time Potter's knees had hit the floor in a stall in the loo, how his hands had shook and his mouth had fumbled, how he had coughed and gagged when Draco spilled out between those lips - flushing bright as he somehow managed to seem almost giddy during it all.

 

Draco closed his eyes and let her question settle inside him, let it ring that alarm that always sent him running as far away as possible. Because fucking with Potter was one thing. Hell even allowing their encounters to spill out of the darkness of the club could be made to fit a certain mold. But admitting...that...was something entirely different. It would open up a hole, a gaping need inside him he didn't think Potter had it in him to fill. 

 

He squeezed Pansy's hand and let out a long breath, his chest constricting with the thump of his heart. "I don't know." He answered quietly.


	10. Chapter 10

There was a memo sitting on Draco's side of Potter's desk the next morning - its wings dark and its point rounded, somehow looking different than any other department’s memos in the whole Ministry. And due to the fact that he was only standing thanks to copious amounts of hangover potion and yet still feeling like a woodpecker had taken up residence in his head, Draco could only stare at it as he hovered in the opening to the empty cubical.

 

It was from the Unspeakables.

 

They hadn't spoken a word to him since exiling him from his office, choosing to ignore his inquires and setting up formal hoops to keep him jumping through instead of actually telling him anything. And now there was a neat little memo just waiting for him on the same day that he had nearly not even come in. He had spent far too long that morning staring at his shallow complexion with the toothbrush sitting idle in his mouth, debating the merits of starting a new profession solely so he didn't have to face up to a certain someone who hadn't left his drunken mind alone the entire night. 

 

Dreaming of Potter these days was nearly as bad as the nerve splitting, gut wrenching, completely chilling ones he got from the disks.

 

With a deep breath, he carefully set down his coffee and the large tome he had planned on immersing himself in before plucking the memo up and pulling it open.

 

Specialist Malfoy,

 

Decontamination complete. You may return to your assigned office upon reception.

 

Unspeakable X

 

Draco stared down at it and scowled - X, really? The Unspeakable couldn't even be bothered enough to sign his name? What did he think Draco was going to do with such information? Track him down and jump him, demanding he apologize for overrunning his workspace? Spike his food with some horrid potion in the cafeteria? Not that the Unspeakables ever ate in the cafeteria...nor did he actually but that hardly mattered. What mattered was that he had his office back - his clean, pristine, Potter and Weasley free office - so why in the name of Merlin was he just glaring at the undefinable blocked writing and grumbling to himself about the lack of a proper signature?

 

Stuffing the memo into his pocket, Draco slipped back out and through the maze of cubicles, reminding himself that he was ecstatic to be free of the mangy Auror department. He shot a withering look at the lone Junior Auror who had shown up in the wee hours of the morning, most likely to finish a teetering stack of reports her supervisors were supposed to have done, simply to spread his own sour mood and pushed through the squeaky door leading to his annex.

 

His lovely, lovely annex. No loud noises or brash lighting. Just him and Damaris and Cobble, all in their respective corners. 

 

His door looked exactly the same as it always did. Black with silver edging, his name printed in nice neat letters in the exact center, his fingers lifting to touch it lightly as he paused in uncertainty. "Bugger it." He grumbled with a shake of his head, his hand dropping to the knob and with a quick twist of his wrist the expanse of wood was swinging inward and revealing his office that looked...exactly the same. Like nothing unsavory had ever happened, let alone a fucking explosion of Potter's magic.

 

His desk was still sitting exactly where it had been, his chair neatly tucked behind it, hell even an inked quill sat waiting at the ready. Lifting his hand, he grasped the door frame above his head that they apparently saw no reason in fixing since it had sunk even more since last he had seen it, and stepped through with a quick duck. His gaze went straight to the wall running along the right side and with a mutter and flick of his wand he held his breath as he waited to see if the shelves would come grinding back into the light.

 

"Bugger." He repeated as a crushing lack of proper expression gripped him, his eyes glued to the shimmering wall as they shifted into view, the skeletal rows still stuffed full of gleaming black boxes with carefully imprinted numbers. He hadn't known what to expect - but this, everything in its rightful place and intact - most definitely was not it. He had been picturing his desk blown to bits (though it could have been and then simply repaired), his files singed and lost, and most importantly all his artifacts he was currently studying gone - damaged beyond repair (which really could still be the case, there was no way of knowing until he checked them all over).

 

Everything was perfect and yet it felt off in a way he couldn't pinpoint. Perhaps it was the fact that the walls and everything encased within them had been soaked in dark magic and then scrubbed clean of it with the Unspeakable's own special brand of harsh magic that never left a trace of anything. They mere meticulous about that - making sure there was never anything anyone could track back to them.

 

He felt something odd thump against his chest as his eye caught on the third shelf and the four boxes in the right hand corner - 43, 44, 45, and 46. They were still there, an empty spot on the shelf after them where the disk he had submerged in the basin had resided, the only one missing. He swallowed against a lump as he stepped forward and let his touch linger over the first of the locked boxes, a strange sense of urgency filling him as he stared at it. An urgency that had him setting it on his desk and spelling it open before he had even fully thought on what he was doing - his gaze suddenly transfixed on the little disk of black and green.

 

The first one. And the only murder that had been a wizard.

 

It looked so innocent once more, bringing back the memory of all the weeks he had spent on them, trying and failing to find any sort of hint as to their purpose. Funny that it had been donning Potter's spectacles that had given him the notion of using water to trigger it. Scooping up the disk, he held it gingerly in the palm of his hand, his head cocked as his eyes traced over the intricate pattern - the same pattern that was etching itself over the inside of Olivia's wrist as she lay in a plane of existence that was neither here nor there. 

 

It frustrated him beyond measure that he still had no clue as to the meaning behind the meticulously placed pattern of black and green. That the dead were piling up and all he had to go on was some disconnected screaming and ice in his blood and dreams of faded images. Every time he got close he was propelled even further away but he also knew he was on the right track. That everything he had witnessed was devastatingly important and connected somehow. He felt a sweeping ache startle down his spine as he turned the disk over in his hand, his thumb brushing over it, something just beyond his reach tugging at his consciousness.

 

It all came down to a feeling. Instinct. If he was going to get anywhere in the case, if he was ever going to take another step forward he would have to rely on what his intuition was telling him.

 

Potter was going to murder him when he found out.

 

The disk felt unreasonably heavy against his thigh as he slipped it into his pocket and thunked against him with each step he took - the Auror office still mostly empty as he stepped back through the door and slipped through the partitions. He let out a sigh of relief as he rounded the corner into Potter's cubicle to find it still vacant, knowing there wasn't any way in hell Potter would relinquish what he needed if he had been there. With a twitch of his hand the uppermost drawer of the sleek black filing cabinet was sliding silently open.

 

His gaze drifted over the blue tabs in the front, his fingers skipping right along after till he spotted what he needed, the file slipping free easily and falling open in his hand. His eyes tracked down the pages as he turned them, stopping as he spotted the unmoving photo of an older man with his eyes stuck wide and his lips parted in a look of surprise and horror. Jenner Thornbee, the name beneath it read, the man's golden, silver streaked hair sodden just like the rest of him - his body splayed out on browning sand, a faded mark that was mostly just scar tissue now on his left forearm a twin to the one Draco kept carefully covered most the time.

 

Tearing his eyes away from the picture, Draco quickly located the coordinates of the isolated lake tucked away in the valley of low hills. He committed it to memory before dropping the file back into the cabinet and searching out the thin brown bracelet that allowed Potter to Apparate in and out of the Ministry any time and place he wished. Fitting it on, he gripped his wand, closed his eyes with the destination firm in his mind’s eye, and spun.

 

 

****

 

 

An hour later - after a considerable hike through low shrubs and rolling hills - Draco stood alone on the shore of the crystal blue lake that had been the end of the line for Jenner Thornbee. It had perplexed Potter for weeks how the man had found himself here, why it seemed he had been at the barren lake willingly. There hadn't been any sign of a struggle nor a wisp of residual magic in the entire surrounding area. And yet as Draco watched the water sit idle and smooth he couldn't help but think that Potter had missed something. There was something about the place that sent a chill down his spine, mingling with the cold in his body like the two were old friends finally reunited. He stared into the lake, picturing the Auror's drudging the body up onto the shore, and felt a pull beneath his navel - like a whisper beckoning him forward and beneath its glassy surface.

 

A warm breeze swept around him, tugging at the fabric of his robes and making them flutter around him like the Universe was shouting its agreement. The sun shone high and beat upon his back as he undid the gray buttons, shrugging the fine material from his shoulders and folding it neatly to lay on the sand at his feet. His shirt and tie followed suit, as did his socks and shoes, until he was standing with his toes touching the cool water in just his trousers.

 

He bloody hated lakes and had long before Potter had pulled him from their depths with his lungs full of water. They made him uneasy, the thought of the dark unknown beneath his feet housing any number of horrendous creatures that could very well spell his doom keeping him on the shore far more often than not.

 

But not today.

 

He held the disk tightly in his hand as he took a step forward, the water rushing over his ankles, then his shins, his thighs, engulfing him up to the waist as his feet hesitated over a sudden drop that would plunge him straight down for who knew how far. One more step and there would be no turning back - one more step and he would either be rewarded for following his gut that was starting to churn now that he was at the precipitous, or he would be the newest victim added to Potter's to-do list.

 

Muttering a quick Bubble-Head charm, Draco gathered his resolve and took the last step forward, his body following like dead weight - the cold water suddenly engulfing him completely a shock to his system as he plunged downward. Kicking his legs out he slowed his decent, hovering in the water that was making everything look surreal and caught in a gentle current. He felt weightless and slightly panicky over the shoddy footing being in such a position left him, the idea that he couldn't run or even Apparate away if things went badly a thump in the back of his skull.

 

But he pushed it all away, his arm floating out before him as he unfurled his fingers, the green of the disk blindingly vivid - like a mirror reflecting the sun. There was a pulse that rippled out from his palm and all around him - holding him still with his limbs suddenly heavy as a soft sound started trickling towards him. It grew louder, broke completely, started back up soft, and repeated all over again.

 

It was the sound of crying. Of a broken soul spilling tears from eyes so red and dry that they shouldn't have been able to produce any sort of liquid let alone the wet sobs that rose and fell around him - filling his ears completely and tugging at his heart. He listened to the wrenching sound and watched with growing trepidation as the eight tentacles started slowly weaving out from under the disk - a slow wave as they grew and stretched towards him, beckoning him.

 

And this time he let them. There was no Potter to pull him back, no place to escape. He only vaguely registered the foully of following those black tentacles, of lifting his arm until the disk was right before his face - one tentacle, smooth as silk reaching out and caressing down his cheek. His pupils expanded, his body screamed out, and he felt himself rushing forward - the water all around him tunneling away from him until he was squeezing through and out.

 

He blinked and found himself in a very familiar room surrounded by a very familiar, if long suppressed, sight.

 

He was hovering in an awkward suspension above the main receiving hall in Malfoy Manor, the room brimming with people in long black cloaks and silver skull masks that were specifically designed to instantly instill fear. The air was filled with low murmurs, no one daring to speak above a whisper, a tension matched in each and every person's body. The Dark Lord was furious though Draco couldn't see him. He just knew it like everyone else knew. He could feel it, could see it reflected in the way the people below him held themselves.

 

Someone would die that night. One of their own.

 

But it wasn't until the grand doors at the far end banged open and Theodor Nott was marched in with his hands bound and his limbs twitching that spoke of the hours he had just spent under punishment, that Draco felt the cold penetrate him once more. This wasn't any old vision, this was a memory, one that he knew all too well because he had been there as a boy. He witnessed this very event, had had something irreplaceable ripped away from him that night.

 

It only took him a moment to find his seventeen year old self, his frame far too skinny and his always pale skin looking sickly and wan, leaning against a wall in the far back - as far away from what was to happen as he could possible get. Draco watched himself as he watched the face of the quiet boy he had grown up with, the boy who hadn't ever shown even an inkling of siding with the Dark. Theo's eyes were downcast, staring at his feet, his wrists bloody under the binding, his harsh breath rattling through the now silent room.

 

Draco could remember that without even looking, he had dreamed about it far too often for it to ever leave him.

 

He could readily remember how he had felt sick, his breakfast from that morning churning in his stomach and threatening to come up as he watched Theo forced to his knees with a pronounced wince. With his back to the wall Draco watched himself as he tried to think what Theo could possibly had done, but nothing came to mind because Theo hadn't done anything. The Dark Lord liked punishing his followers through their children or their friends and Theo was the innocent sacrificial lamb. He would be slaughtered to teach a lesson, to prove a point.

 

Hanging suspended above it all, it all had a sort of glossy sheen to it, a sort of rosy glow around his younger self - making him look far more controlled and resolved then Draco knew he had been.

 

Then a smaller door off to the side was opening and a girl was being pulled through, her black hair a greasy, sticky mess in her face. "Pansy." Past Draco breathed with his heart clenching as she was dragged opposite Theo, a wand shoved into her trembling hand.

 

Merlin he didn't want to watch this, not again.

 

He could remember how confused he had been. How his back had stiffened, how his stomach had lurched threateningly as his mind spun - because he couldn't fathom what she was doing there, why she wasn't still at school, what she could have possibly done to have made the Dark Lord decide that she needed to do this. Pansy, like Theo, had kept her distance, had skirted the line. Now here they both were, one to die, one to kill, and Draco it seemed was doomed to witness the death of one friend and the ripping of another friend’s soul.

 

"Do it." One of the masked men commanded in a voice that sounded disjointed and off as Pansy cowered on the floor, her nose running with snot and her cheeks wet with tears. "Do it now girl."

 

Her hand shook as she raised the wand, her eyes downcast like she couldn't stand to look at Theo as she took his life from him. "Avad-d-d"

 

The man fisted a hand in her hair and yanked her head back, his shiny mask looming right above her terrified face. "You have to mean it." He hissed menacingly and Draco felt like swooping down off the ceiling and hexing the man's arse six ways from Sunday just as much as his younger self felt stuck to the wall with utter helplessness.

 

Pansy let out a gasping sob, the tip of the wand in her hand shaking with a violent tremor. She wouldn't be able to do it, no matter how much they threatened her, which meant that she and Theo would both end up dead on the floor before the day was done - Pansy's body no doubt covered in bloody, horrible wounds before she hit the floor. Draco knew there wouldn't be any hope, the one major side effect of growing up in the presence of darkness was it washed away disillusion, leaving the gritty reality that a boy shouldn't ever have to be burdened with.

 

Draco could remember how he shook as he pushed from the wall and stalked up right next to Pansy before he could even fathom what he was doing, his stomach so sick that it was a miracle he hadn't thrown up yet. Her large brown eyes blinked at him, tears leaking past the red rims. "Draco?" She whispered, her voice filled with that hope and belief that he could overcome everything - her hero since childhood. Except Draco was no hero, he was a Slytherin, he had always looked after himself above all else.

 

And yet...

 

He snatched her wand, pointed it at Theo, hoped the boy saw his apology in his masked gaze, and whispered the killing curse. The flash of green light had present day Draco flinching and Pansy sobbing again, the thud of Theo's body on the floor a sound that would haunt Draco for the rest of his days. But he didn't let that show, didn't let his own tears fall until later that night behind his closed bedroom door, kept the contents of his stomach in until he had stumbled down the hall and out of sight.

 

With all eyes on him, he hid his panic as he thrust the wand back at the man beside them. "She doesn't have the power." Draco said, again in a voice that didn't quite fit - his stance much too steady and his glare stonier than it had been - before walking as calmly as he could manage back to his spot on the wall, half expecting to be hit in the back with a curse that surprisingly didn't come.

 

Then the vision was shifting and Draco felt like he was floating out of his body as he fell upon a small stone room with a large white bed in the center - a girl with long blonde hair that scraped her waist sitting on the edge with her back to him. She was crying, the sound connecting with the disjointed one he had heard in the water moments before. Her shoulders were trembling lightly, her pale hand lifting to tuck a piece of her wispy hair behind her ear.

 

"Draco." She whispered, her voice caught on a sob and Draco felt crushing pain crumble through his body as he was propelled backwards - the girl falling away from him as her tears grew in pitch.

 

With a gasp that had water rushing into his lungs, Draco was flung back into his body, the Bubble-Head charm having dissolved from around him and leaving his chest burning as he pressed his arms down and kicked his legs - the only thought in his foggy head was getting to the surface. Then he would think about what he had seen and what the hell it all meant. With the disk that was no longer blinding bright or spouting tentacles clenched tight in his fist, he swam up and up, his head breaking the surface with a large gulp of air that didn't do anything to soften the splitting pain down the center of his head.

 

The sun sent dazzling spots through his vision and he swam until his feet touched the slimy lake bed once more, his heart beating so furiously that it bloody hurt - each thump bringing another question to mind that he had no clue how to answer. Like how in the fuck did the disk have that memory? And why? Not to mention the rosy glow about it all, the way he had seemed so much larger and confident than he knew he had been during it all. And who was the girl and why was she calling for him? She seemed familiar in a begrudging way, like his brain was refusing to connect her even though there was something in his past that she was linked to.

 

She had been the one who was crying and now that he had heard her, seen her, it felt as if she had been the one who had been screaming when he submerged the disk in his office and when he been around Olivia. But that didn't make any sense. None of it did.

 

 

****

 

 

Potter was staring at him with his mouth dropped open in shock, his arms still crossed over his chest from when Draco had popped up in his cubicle - half dry with dripping hair and sopping shoes and wet elbows due to a distracted drying charm - proclaiming that he needed to speak with him right away. A matter of urgency. Potter had grumbled as he led him into his newly reinstated office, the sound of Potter hitting his head on the door frame not even managing to pull a smirk across Draco's lips like it always did.

 

He had been much too distracted to care about taunting him or even noticing the tightness to Potter's lips and the erect way he held himself as Draco fell heavily back into his chair. He barely even noticed the snappish way Potter asked what he wanted as his eyes roamed over Draco's wet, disheveled appearance.

 

And he told him - leaving out the little tidbit of nicking his Apparation bracelet. It had all rushed out in an unstoppable gush, his voice simply rising and plowing on when Potter started yelling about his utter stupidity, his tone not even bothering to drop back to normal when Potter fell quiet as he explained the memory he had been transported to (and thus confessing his one and only murder for the first time outside of a court room) and the scene with the girl afterword.

 

Now he was finished, had been for a few minutes, and Potter hadn't even twitched a muscle. He just stared with wide eyes that surely must have been stinging with the urge to blink by now.

 

"You're...you're serious?" Potter muttered, his eyes narrowing an inch.

 

"No Potter, it's all a grand joke." Draco snapped, his body completely spent and the throbbing in his head still making his vision waver. "Clever no?"

 

"I just..." Potter pushed a hand through his hair and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Seriously?"

 

"Ask that again and I'll throttle you." Draco grumbled, watching as Potter seemed to snap back into himself and take a little step forward, his gaze dropping to the disk resting quietly inside its open box.

 

"You're bloody mental Malfoy." Potter carefully touched the disk and frowned when nothing happened, like he been expecting it to jump out at him and pull him under. "How did you know that would work and not just kill you?"

 

Draco shrugged. "I didn't. I just had a feeling that it was the right direction to go."

 

Potter glared at him. "A feeling? You risked your like on a fucking feeling? Merlin Malfoy are you trying to make me go gray?"

 

"Gods no, you would look awful all sprinkled with salt." Draco shuddered. "But I don't see how what I choose to do with my time has anything to do with you, let alone the color of your monstrous hair."

 

Potter open and shut his mouth, a muscle in his cheek twitching in irritation. "You don't see? You have no tiny clue as to why you dying on my case might make me a bit barmy?"

 

Draco tipped his chin and fought against looking away, the heat in Potter's gaze always making his head go light. It didn't help that the dark haired man was leaning over his desk now, with his palms planted firmly on the wood, the green of his eyes bright like the disk underwater - a bruising patch of purple poking out defiantly from the collar of his shirt, making the memory of sucking it onto Potter's neck bloom under his skin and warm his chill. "You needn't worry about it tarnishing your record. No one would hardly bat an eyelash over the death of a former Death Eater when they've got you to smile at them."

 

Potter's hands curled into fists on the desk, something truly frightening taking flight in his gaze. "You know that's not it." He spoke lowly in a tone that Draco felt that if he hadn't already been sitting would have made his knees buckle. It was Potter in full authority mode, a jumble of all the Potter's he knew rolled into one.

 

"Regardless." Draco cleared his throat, glancing down and away, his wand flicking and forcing the box with the disk shut and locked. "We finally have a lead do we not?"

 

"It's not much." Potter conceded with a grunt. "But it is something. Was there anything at all that stood out to you, anything that was different or that could lead us to the girl or the murderer?"

 

Draco sighed and shook his head. "I don't believe so. Like I said the memory was correct but skewed. It painted me with much more...flattery and bravado. But other than that...I'll think on it."

 

Potter nodded and straightened back up. "Do that and Malfoy don't you dare go off on your own again in the meantime. I had my theories that all this was driven by Death Eaters or their sympathizers and now I think it's even more likely."

 

"The other disks?" Draco quipped, glancing at the three boxes that housed the other disks, plans already in his head about finding the correct locations and activating them.

 

"We'll do it together later this week."

 

"I don't need a babysitter." He grumbled, unsure if the twist in his stomach was due to apprehension over Potter being there with him next time or gratefulness of not having to go it alone.

 

"Not a negotiation." Potter gave him a pointed look. "Run off again like that and you'll find yourself fetching coffee for department heads all year."

 

Draco glared and bit his tongue against arguing, knowing full well that Potter had the pull with the right people to demote him like that - the sneaky bastard. "Fine." He hissed through clenched teeth. "Now get out, I have a report to write."

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." Potter muttered but there was a little nervous frown on the corner of his lips as he took one step back and then stopped - hovering on the spot like there was something more he needed to say but couldn't find the words.

 

"What is it?" Draco snapped, unfurling a roll of parchment and laying it out on his desk.

 

"Nothing, it's just." He fidgeted with his hand messing up his hair ever more once again. "Just some of us are going out tonight...get some drinks you know."

 

"Goody for you." Draco drawled, something that was trying to be a smile at Potter's obvious nervousness tugging at his mouth.

 

Potter nodded and scratched at his jaw. "Yeah...so maybe you could stop by?"

 

"Why?" Draco asked, trying to remember a single time Potter had ever invited him to something and coming up blank.

 

The smile on Potter's lips was much too damn boyish, just a flash of teeth at the corner and a deep flush spreading over his cheeks. "It will be fun."

 

Draco snorted. "With your friends? Hardly."

 

He shrugged and his nose crinkled as his smile grew. "You never know. You won't have to buy."

 

"Enticing me with free alcohol?" Draco snickered and wondered if Potter's blush was somehow contagious as it seemed to be pricking his own ears now as the man grinned at him.

 

"Is it working?"

 

"Perhaps."

 

"Alright, great. Well I'll send you the address. 9 o'clock. So...great, I'll...I'll see you there then." And with that awkward sentence and another blush inducing smile, Potter was smacking his head on the door frame and stumbling away with a pained curse as Draco sat back and wondered how in the world he was even considering going out with Potter and his friends - the uncomfortable state of his wet feet all but forgotten.


	11. Chapter 11

The address Potter had sent turned out to be to a muggle club, though not the same one they had both frequented not so long ago.

 

There was a long line winding down the sidewalk, packed full of men and women hoping for a chance to make it through the door before the night was through. Draco didn't wait in line, he simply strode past the horde of people in his finely pressed, untucked blue button up and ridiculously expensive but so incredibly comfortable black jeans that hugged him in all the right places, and right up to the bouncer. Moments later he was stepping through the door and was immediately accosted by the ear splitting thump of music, his eyes struggling for a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, making him feel far older than he truly was.

 

But Merlin, the place was loud and absolutely nothing about it even hinted at being an establishment Potter would darken with his shadow let alone choose as a gathering place for himself and his Gryffindor attachments.

 

He came to a stop at the top of the stairs overlooking the dance floor and let his gaze wander as he hesitated - once more overrun with anxiety over his decision to accept Potter's invitation. He had been so close to not coming at all. He had cooked and eaten a lazy dinner, slipped into his pajamas, and had curled up with a book on his sofa, and then proceeded to just stare unseeingly at the page - his mind wandering off and picturing Potter in a club, getting stumbling drunk, and then grabbing the nearest bloke and...

 

He had snapped the book shut and was dressed before he even knew what the hell he was doing. The thought of Potter grinding into some nameless, faceless man making his blood boil for reasons he didn't want to dwell on.

 

Now he was here - albeit unfashionably late - and found that he had no clue why he was even considering spending the evening with Potter and his friends, considering all but Weasley still mostly loathed him. Gods what if Ginevra was there amongst them all? What had he been thinking? He couldn't...no, he was fucking insane. He needed to leave, to slip back into his flat, and pretend he hadn't just run here to make sure Potter ended up going home unsatisfied. Or satisfied by his hand.

 

Draco growled at his traitorous thought, he had resolved to put this Potter business behind himself. He needed to, if that night with Potter in his bed and Pansy's unnerving question afterward had taught him anything. He couldn't afford to get in any deeper and as much as he tried to pretend that they may be able to continue on as usual, deep down Draco knew better, knew that the next time they found themselves tumbling together would change everything. And he feared he wouldn't be able to hide that fact from Potter.

 

"Draco, you came." A wispy voice said from behind him, startling him out of his thoughts, the woman's voice so low it was a miracle he could even hear her above all the noise.

 

He twisted around to find Luna Lovegood smiling dreamily at him, her long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail of soft curls, corked earrings hanging from her delicate lobes, and a vibrant purple and yellow dress wrapped loosely around her slim body. She hardly looked a day older than she had at seventeen, cheeks slightly pink from the night, a plethora of silver bangles clinking together on her wrist as she raised her arms to envelope him in an awkward hug.

 

Well awkward for him anyway, she didn't seem to notice his spine stiffening upon contact or the fact that his arms stayed motionless at his side.

 

"Good timing to." She grasped his hand and started tugging him along behind her, weaving down the stairs and through the crowd.

 

"Good timing?" He pitched his voice over the music and quickly sidestepped a couple from bowling him over.

 

Luna nodded and threaded their fingers together when Draco tried to discreetly pull away. "Oh yes, Harry was about to turn purple."

 

"What?" Draco wrinkled his brow in confusion.

 

"Mhmm." She nodded, like that explained everything and Draco was just about to demand she elaborate when they were ascending three deep set steps and found themselves in a slightly secluded alcove with a large rounded booth in the corner littered with familiar looking people. "Look who I found!" She proclaimed to the laughing group.

 

Draco wanted very much to slip under an invisibility cloak just then as all eyes turned suspiciously to him, his own gaze quickly finding Potter's as the obviously tipsy man straightened his back and grinned at him, the glass in his hand sloshing precariously. "You made it!" He exclaimed, looking right then left with a frown as he suddenly seemed to realize that he was boxed in.

 

"And only three hours late." Weasley nodded, patting his friend on the back. "What did I tell ya Harry?"

 

Potter flushed, his gaze sliding seeming unbidden back to Draco. "Yeah, yeah." He grumbled.

 

"Well, sit Malfoy." Weasley slung his arm over Granger who had yet to look directly at Draco. "Name your drink mate."

 

"Gin." Potter blurted out then promptly bit his lip like the word had escaped without his permission, forcing Draco to reconsider his earlier assumption that the man was tipsy. He had been wrong apparently and now that he could see his unfocused eyes more clearly as he slipped into an empty spot it was undeniably clear that Potter was very nearly wasted.

 

Weasley laughed and shoved a glass of water at Potter. "Drink." He instructed before glancing back around the table. "Whose turn to fetch the drinks?"

 

"I'll do it." Longbottom slipped from the booth opposite Draco, drawing his gaze to the man who only seemed to get handsomer each time he saw him. Aging only seemed to agree with the former pudgy, stuttering, gardening fanatic. These day's he was downright gorgeous with his deep brown eyes, his tall fit figure, and his strong hands that always seemed a tad darker due to the fact that he spent so much time elbow deep in soil. Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to achieve possession of a laid-back demeanor and a slick tongue that made him easy to get along with.

 

It was odd to think that out of all the former Gryffindor’s, Longbottom was the most...welcoming to Draco's presence.

 

"Anything else?" Longbottom asked, shifting a loving smile down at the girl who had been sitting next to him. "Hannah?"

 

She smiled and shook her head. "No more for me." She replied in a high, sweet voice that embodied everything Draco knew about Hufflepuffs in the span of one sentence.

 

"Get another pitcher." Dean Thomas piped in around a mouth full of crisps, the man's shoulders slumped a little on the left like he was having a hard time staying completely upright, his weight leaning heavily on Seamus Finnigan who was openly assessing Draco with a curious look. Finnigan still had the same short sandy blonde hair, the same mischievous hazelnut eyes, and the same outward projection of trouble that had only seemed to intensify with age - making Draco firmly believe that just by looking at him that the night would take a drastic turn if he toed to close to the line near him.

 

"And a whiskey." Potter added as Granger tisked, Draco's gaze sliding from the Irish man and back over to Potter. "What?" He scowled at his friend.

 

"Harry don't you think -"

 

"Ah lay off 'im Hermione, it's a man's inherent right to get pissed on his birthday." Finnigan laughed, propping his shoulder more steadily against Thomas as the dark man tipped heavy towards him.

 

"Birthday?" Draco repeated before he could stop himself, Lovegood dropping into the booth beside him as Longbottom disappeared towards the bar.

 

"Erm." Potter shifted, rolling his shoulders back and rubbing at his neck, peaking at Draco shyly through his fringe.

 

"To Harry!" Thomas hollered. "Defying death since infancy." He thrust his mostly empty glass in the air dramatically.

 

"A lion of a man!" Finnigan joined in, his glass clinking with his friends.

 

"Honestly." Granger mumbled, her own glass rising none the less. "Happy birthday Harry."

 

"Best damn mate to ever live!" Weasley laughed, nudging his girlfriend until she could no longer keep the smile from her lips.

 

"Yeah okay...stop now." Potter muttered in embarrassment as all the glasses in the air sloshed against each other before being downed by their respective owners, Potter's green eyes darting quickly to Draco's bemused gaze. And just like that the awkward moment that had fallen over them when Draco had appeared at their table was gone, resting solely on Draco's shoulders now as all the occupants (which was thankfully Ginny free) laughed and burst into chatter all at once - like a storm of unorganized chaos.

 

Pansy would be in bloody heaven listening to them all, though Draco had no idea how on earth any of them could pay proper attention to any one subject - his neck quickly protesting as he found himself glancing back and forth, listening quietly and trying to keep track of everyone around him. Finnigan was just as loud as ever, his voice a boom. Granger somehow managed to draw the Hannah girl (whom Draco could vaguely recall from school) into a discussion about the rights of gnomes - Longbottom returning with the drinks and then listening with a satisfied smile every time the blonde girl opened her mouth and participated in the conversation. Weasley on the other hand couldn't have been less interested in his girlfriend’s choice of topic and joked crassly with Thomas as Potter tried to be a part of all conversations while shooting Draco small smiles and mouthing little questions his way whenever there was a loll in the noise level.

 

Lovegood was off in a world of her own, though perhaps if Draco could be bothered enough to stop trying to decipher the words Potter was trying to get across to him he would have had more of an active participation in the conversation she was having with him.

 

And that's how it went for nearly an hour. Then Finnigan started regaling everyone with a story about a coworker who liked brooms a little too much while Thomas blinked rapidly to keep from passing right out on the table and Weasley laughing so hard he shot beer right out his nose and Granger looking positively like she was the one with a broom up her arse. Hannah just smiled and nodded, her voice much too quiet to possibly be heard even when she did open her mouth, and Lovegood kept swiping Draco's gin and taking tiny sips with a pronounced wrinkle to her nose.

 

"Tastes like trees." She hummed after the tenth time stealing it.

 

"Yes." Draco drawled, grabbing it back and sucking the rest down until only the lime wedge was left.

 

"I do love trees." She mused. "Bit like kissing Harry I'd assume."

 

"What?" Draco shot her a startled look, thanking Merlin that Thomas had just spilled the pitcher all over his lap and the entire table was currently caught up in either breath stealing laughter or discreetly trying to spell the mess away.

 

She blinked her large blue eyes and smiled widely. "He smells like a forest, quiet calming."

 

"I don't -" Draco frowned deeply and bit into his cheek, his eyes darting to Potter, the dark haired man laughing loudly with his skin flushed from the alcohol and his green eyes bright as tears pricked the corners. His lips were darker than usual, plump as he shouted at Finnigan and swore when the Irish man threw the wet napkin in his face. "You've...with him?"

 

Lovegood chuckled and shook her head, her cork earrings bouncing against her neck. "No...no but I image it would be nice."

 

"Because he'd taste like trees?" Draco shifted in his seat, wishing his glass wasn't dry because Merlin did he need to drink more. He didn't need Lovegood planting thoughts like that in his head, not when he spent far too much time as it was thinking about how he would taste.

 

"Oh yes." Luna nodded enthusiastically and then with no further warning she was slipping beneath the table and a moment later Potter was jumping in his spot with a startled yelp - her blonde head poking up as she climbed right onto his lap.

 

"Umm, Luna?" Potter was squinting at her, looking startled and yet somehow accepting, like having the girl suddenly appear on his lap wasn't an odd sort of occurrence in the least, his hands going immediately to her sides to steady her as the table went quiet.

 

"Hullo Harry." She smiled and then grabbed his face between her dainty hands and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that had the briefest flash of tongue as Potter yelped again and Draco felt his entire body tense and a burning fire ignite in his veins. "Mhmm, very soothing." She said as she pulled back with a friendly smile at Potter's dumbstruck expression.

 

"Erm, thanks?" He cleared his throat and glanced quickly around the table.

 

"You're very welcome." She nodded as Finnigan snickered and Thomas let out a barking laugh - Longbottom catching Draco's eyes for a moment before he leaned towards Hannah and whispered something in her ear.

 

"Where's my kiss Luna?" Thomas leered at her, leaning towards them and nearly following atop Finnigan in the process.

 

Lovegood laughed. "Silly, you don't smell like trees." And then she was back under the table and popping next to Draco once more with a far off look on her face.

 

"Bloody luck you've got mate." Thomas grumbled. "Always one for the ladies."

 

"I'll say, going to tell us about the lucky lass now 'Arry?" Finnigan wiggled an eyebrow at Potter as he reached out and tugged on the collar of his friend’s shirt - revealing for a second too long and to Draco's utter mortification, the marks on his collar and neck before Potter managed to smack Seamus's hand away and tug his shirt back into place.

 

"Bugger off." Potter snapped, his gaze fixed on the table and his cheeks flaming.

 

"Ohhh this is going to be a good one eh? Come on we're starved for actions ain't we?" Finnigan dropped his elbows onto the table and nearly knocked over his own glass in the process.

 

"Nothing to tell." Potter grumbled, downing the rest of his whiskey and purposely keeping his gaze away from Draco.

 

"Doesn't look like nothing, looks like someone found themselves a real slut." Dean piped in as Draco bristled. "And as your friends we deserve the gritty details."

 

"No." Potter ground out, his hand dragging nervously through his hair.

 

"Oh come on boys, let him keep his secret if he wants." Weasley admonished and Draco had never liked the man more than he did in that instance. "He deserves his kicks like anyone else." He added, his eyes jumping to Draco for one horrifying moment, almost like he could sense the tense coil of the blonde's muscles or the way his hands were curling harshly over his thighs.

 

Fuck it.

 

"You like her Harry?" Longbottom asked as Thomas and Finnigan grumbled to each other, his tone soft and thoughtful - the question making Draco's heart slow to a painful rhythm as he waited for his answer, unsure what words he wanted to hear spill from Potter's nervous mouth.

 

"I - it's complicated." Potter fidgeted with his glass and kept his eyes glued to his hand.

 

"Do we know them?" Granger inquired, her head tipped in question, Draco's ear's immediately zeroing in on the usage of them instead of her. He had no clue how many of Potter's friends knew of his preference for cock or even if it was only part of the man's preference. For all Draco knew Potter knelt for him and then stuck it to some chit on the weekends after long romantic dinners.

 

"Monie." Weasley muttered under his breath and then proceeded to have a silent conversation with her through looks alone, their eyebrows exaggerated and her jaw clenched - Merlin if they dated any longer Draco was sure they would converge into one being.

 

"I'm simply curious Ronald." She said after a long sigh. "If this person is making Harry happy than don't you think we should know more about them?"

 

"Of course he's happy!" Finnigan shouted before Potter could even open his mouth. "You saw his neck, a bitch who can suck like that is always good to keep around."

 

"Blow jobs are a miraculous thing." Thomas nodded seriously along with his friend.

 

"You feeling alright?" Luna asked him suddenly, Draco's gaze snapping quickly to her to find her staring at him with that unnerving gaze of hers.

 

"Yes." He forced out, willing his heart to slow and the flush that he could feel on his cheeks to dissipate, brushing her hand away as she lifted it to his forehead.

 

"Sex isn't everything." Granger pointed out.

 

"But it sure helps." Finnigan winked at Potter who looked like laughing and winking back as much as he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but squished between his friends at the moment. "Come on Harry, I tell you about all my sexual adventures."

 

"And gods should you stop." Weasley shuttered violently. "I think your trip to Italy last year scared me for good."

 

Finnigan laughed and wiggled his eyebrows. "Italians know how to get dirty. Got yourself an Italian Harry?"

 

"No." Potter laughed. "Fuck no."

 

"Something against Italian's Potter?" Draco raised an eyebrow, piping up and joining the conversation simply so Lovegood would stop trying to feel for a fever and giving him pointed looks like she just knew what he was thinking. She posed an unsettling resemblance to Pansy when she looked at him like that.

 

Potter grinned and straightened back up. "Not as such but you listen to Seamus's story and I'll bet even you'd be scared off."

 

"Even me?" Draco scoffed. "Was that a slight? A hint at my depravity?"

 

"Parvati always said Slytherin's were animals in the sack." Hannah, the quiet meek woman at the end of the table, chimed in.

 

"Naturally." Draco shot her a lewd grin to which Longbottom tightened his arm around her shoulders, but his eyes were still soft and a smile still graced his lips.

 

"I don't know about all Slytherin's but Blaise was quite ravenous." Lovegood added lightly, making Weasley choke on his beer, Granger squeak, and Finnigan break out into peals of laughter as Potter gaped at her.

 

"Damn Luna, you and Zabini?" Thomas whistled. "I think that has us all beat as oddest couple yet."

 

"Zabini's Italian i'nt he?" Finnigan screwed up his face in concentration.

 

"Enough about Italians already." Thomas grumbled, spilling all over the table as he attempted to pour himself another glass.

 

"I bet you're a beautiful lover." Lovegood said thoughtfully and Draco glanced quickly around the table to assess who she was talking to only to find almost everyone staring at him - including the nutty Ravenclaw graduate, her head propped on her open palm.

 

"Pardon?" He asked, wishing rather feverishly that he hadn't worn such a high collar shirt because Merlin was it hot.

 

"Deceptively strong hands." She continued, nodding to herself as Draco subconsciously curled his fingers into his palms. "Stamina like a horse I'd imagine." Someone choked at that, or perhaps it had been several someones, but Draco knew one of them had been Potter - he had heard that sound often enough to have committed it to memory by now.

 

"Got a thing for the snake house don't you Loony?" Thomas grumbled, slumping onto his elbows. "Why don't you just drag him home with you?"

 

"Oh no, Draco's taken." Lovegood smiled and Draco felt his stomach plummet as he shifted uneasily, remembering fully why Luna Lovegood had always made him uncomfortable. He could remember a time in sixth year when she had waltzed by him while he was having a near nervous breakdown in the middle of the hall and with a genuine smile had pressed a warm roll into his hands. He hadn't eaten at all that week until that moment she had left and he had sunk his teeth into the toasty, buttery bread.

 

Not to mention the awful year of the Dark Lords reign when she had resided in his basement. He could still remember her uncanny smile and softly spoken reassurances even as he locked her in.

 

Thomas snorted. "Of course he is, what with those hands of his." His head lolled dangerously, Finnigan shooting out a hand to steady him before he pumped his nose on the table.

 

"You seeing someone Malfoy?" Longbottom, the man of seemingly endless decorum, asked with what looked like honest curiosity.

 

"I have no desire to hear who the ferret is shagging." Thomas grumbled before toppling sideways, making Finnigan curse and smack into Potter as he tipped with him. "Harry, yes. Malfoy, fuck no."

 

"I don't see why we need to discuss who anyone is shagging." Granger interjected, talking louder than necessary like she was trying to make up for the ferret reference. In fact she looked like she was desperately trying to make up for all her friends drunkenness by being even more rigid than usual, her lips puckered and brow curved into a sharp line over her eyes.

 

"You fucking Parkinson Malfoy?" Thomas asked in a deep slur, apparently haven already forgotten his desire to never hear about Draco's love life.

 

"Gods no. She's married in any case." Draco shuddered at the thought, making a grab for Lovegood's drink since there wasn’t even a drop left of his. He took a sip and grimaced at the overly sweet fruity mixture, wondering if there was even any alcohol in it.

 

"She was a hot one." Finnigan added thoughtfully. "We fooled around in a broom cupboard once."

 

Draco blinked back his own horror as the table erupted in chaotic chatter once again - everyone apparently forgetting about him and Harry as they hounded Finnigan for details. Which the man gave. In graphic detail despite the exaggerated pleading from his friends to spare them. One thing was for certain though, Pansy had a lot of explaining to do.

 

 

****

 

 

"No, you've got to hit it at an angle."

 

"I am."

 

"No...like this, there now try."

 

"Ow! Fucking game."

 

"God, are you okay?"

 

"No Potter, I'm not okay, I almost lost an eye!"

 

"Just nicked you."

 

"You get nicked in the eye and see if you’re laughing then."

 

"My turn anyways, give me the coins. It's all in the bounce."

 

"Bloody bounce, I think you made this dodgy game up."

 

"Did not. HA! Drink up Malfoy!"

 

"You're trying to get me pissed."

 

"Not trying, succeeding." Potter grinned and shot the coin against the table, laughing evilly as it landed in the glass of water, just like all his coins did and Draco's refused to. And now as he reached for yet another drink, his head swimming, Draco came to the conclusion that this was why all of Potter's friends had left and it was only the two of them now.

 

They all knew better than to play a blasted muggle drinking game with the savior of the Wizarding world.

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

"You did not kill a Basilisk when you were twelve Potter."

 

"Pretty sure I did."

 

"How the fuck are you still alive, you manic?!"

 

"Dumbledore’s phoenix."

 

"What?"

 

"He sort of cried on me after I killed the snake with the sword."

 

"...A sword? You killed a fucking Basilisk when you were twelve with a fucking sword?!"

 

"Erm yeah?"

 

"I need another drink."

 

 

****

 

 

 

"How did you do that?" Potter asked, his glassy eyes wide as he plucked the knotted stem from between Draco's teeth.

 

"Talent Potter." Draco drawled, well tried to anyway. It was starting to get rather difficult forming complete sentences without slurring unbecomingly and keeping his head from wobbling like Thomas's had been doing before Finnigan had finally dragged him home. "Nature talent."

 

"Tying cherry stems in your pram were you?" Potter snickered, dropping the knot onto the table and falling back against the booth, both his leg and arm bumping into Draco's and staying there like they'd just been slathered with glue. And yet Draco couldn't seem to get up the indignation to care one wit about the fact that Potter was now so close that he was practically in Draco's lap - his dark head lolling on the back of the seat as he smiled sloppily at him.

 

In fact the closeness combined with the alcohol in his blood was producing a burning heat inside him, making him just turn his own head from where it was lying back until he was nearly nose to nose with the other man. He had no idea what time it was, how long him and Potter had been getting steadily drunker or even how long ago everyone else had left - it seemed like ages ago now that he had been sitting next to Luna. He couldn't even really recall how Potter had ended up right next to him or why they just kept talking and drinking when Draco knew they needed to get home and to bed.

 

This was new and slightly frightening territory - which was most likely why he couldn't even recount how many drinks he had consumed up until now. Liquor lubricated their conversation, letting things slip that never had before - details of the past, snippets of shared events that the other hadn't know, ridiculous party tricks that no one in a sober state would ever share with anyone. And all the while Potter had gotten steadily closer until there wasn't a speck of space between them and Draco felt a slight nagging in the back of his head that he should pull away and go home but then again...

 

Potter smelled woodsy with the sharp tang of whiskey and it was a strange thing indeed to see his hand lift and latch onto Potter's collar - tugging lightly on the fabric until he could see the bruises beneath it.

 

"Should heal those." He muttered, his thumb brushing over one and watching with vivid fascination as a deep shiver ran down Potter's spine.

 

"Nah." Potter hiccupped, his hand coming to flop heavily against Draco's thigh. "Like 'em."

 

"Their trashy." Draco admonished, his finger undoing the top button without a thought as to why.

 

"You did it." He pointed out, tipping his head back as Draco's fingers roamed further, spreading across his neck and over his collar bone.

 

"Not the point."

 

"I think it is...Merlin you do have nice hands." Potter's hand was clutching him now, his fingers curling around his inner thigh as his other one swung forward to latch onto the shirt over Draco's chest.

 

"I'm not doing anything." Draco muttered, bemused, though that technically wasn't true. He was touching him, running the tips of his fingers around his throat and leaning forward to breathe hotly under his ear, a thrill lacing through him as Potter shivered again.

 

"Like fuck you’re not." Potter gasped, his grip tightening further, his body pressing nearer. "Want to feel your hands all over me."

 

"Demanding tonight." Draco smiled with his lips brushing over Potter's pulse point.

 

"Mhmm, s'my birthday." He twisted his torso and tugged, dragging Draco against him till he could feel the man's heart beating beneath his own - his lips moving until they were caressing the shell of the blondes ear. "Wanna hear my wish?"


	12. Chapter 12

Potter's dark flat was littered with their clothes lying vacant where they fell, hands replacing the touch of fabric, creating friction and heat that boiled over like an erupting volcano.

 

The stairs had been the most precarious, a trainer lying on the fifth step where Potter had tripped trying to kick them off - pulling Draco down with him as he fell until they were a tangled heap on the jutting steps. But the wood cutting into the Auror's back and Draco's knees and thighs and elbows didn't detour them - Potter taking the moment Draco grunted out in pain to thread his fingers back through the blonde tresses and nearly pull him into a kiss that Draco barely managed to evade, his lips latching onto Potter's throat instead. The darker man had groaned as his head thunked back and his hands worked to rid Draco of his trousers - getting the denim down to his knees before they nearly toppled back down the stairs, Draco latching one firm hand onto the railing and the other around Potter's waist to keep them in place.

 

There was another hiccup on the top of the landing where Draco got distracted as Potter's boxers hit the floor, his hands pressing Potter's hips into the wall as he dropped to his knees and licked a wet stripe up the underside of the man's thick cock. He then proceeded to make Potter's knees buckle and shake - unsteady hands latching onto the back of his head and a string of curses leaving Potter’s neglected lips - as he lavished open mouthed kisses on the leaking head. He lapped up the salty pre-cum, moaned as he mouthed the slick skin and teased the slit.

 

He kissed Potter's cock like he was dying to devour his mouth.

 

Reaching around the man's arse and running his touch up the crack, Draco had taken the entire length of Potter's prick in his mouth as he pressed his finger against his pucker. To which Potter cursed Merlin, chanted his name, and thrust his hips back in a move that forced Draco's finger just past the tight ring of muscles. The only warning he received before his mouth was flooded with bitter cum was Potter tugging on his hair and begging for more. Somehow the bedroom came next - after much stumbling, groping, and bruising kisses - the bed catching under Potter's knees, the naked couple landing heavily atop the mattress.

 

And now Potter was laid out flush before him, covered in marks made by Draco's mouth and hands, his legs spread wide and cock already hardening again as the blonde licked and nibbled his way back up Potter's thigh. He had never been more turned on in his entire life, the sounds Potter was making were sure to be seared into his mind for all eternity - as was the taste of his skin and the touch of his flesh flush against his.

 

"Oh god." Potter groaned for the hundredth time as Draco scarped his teeth over the sensitive flesh, his hands moving to Potter's arse, his fingers massaging the firm globes.

 

"Knees up." Draco instructed, the raspy edge to his tone making his voice so much deeper than usual and speaking to the near nerve wrecking levels of arousal he felt pumping through him. He could barely see straight let alone think logically as Potter readily complied, his elbows hooking under his bent knees, in effect putting him completely on display for Draco's hungry gaze.

 

And Merlin was it a sight. Spreading Potter's arse cheeks further apart, he breathed heavily over the furrowed flesh exposed to him, watching it twitch and contract as Potter's body stilled completely. It was something Draco hadn't ever had the desire to do before but now listening to Potter hold his breath and seeing the man so open, he found he simply needed too. Draco leaned forward and pressed a kissed to the pucker, smiling as Potter jerked and cursed loudly.

 

"M-Malfoy..." Potter shuddered.

 

"So tiny." Draco hummed, moving his thumb down until it brushed over the intimate area before he let his tongue peak out and touch it lightly. He heard Potter's head smack back into the pillow as his hips lifted minutely. "You need to be fucked open, don't you?"

 

"Fuck, yes." Potter panted, his hips twitching up as Draco licked softly once more, the idea of the filthy act he was committing doing nothing to dissuade him, instead it only seemed to drive him on - wondering how far he could push until Potter pushed back, until the man snapped and twisted Draco under his own control. Until Potter's sternly leashed self-control vanished.

 

"Mhmm, hold yourself open for me." Draco said as he moved from the bed. He heard Potter comply, twisting his arms a bit awkwardly to get into the right position as Draco quickly found a tube of lube in the bedside drawer. Settling himself back on his stomach, he set the lube down next to Potter's hip and groaned at the vision before him - Potter so wanton and wanting, holding himself obediently, waiting. It made his throat constrict and his addled mind threaten the threshold of sanity. He wanted to make Potter crumble beneath him, he wanted to taste every last inch of him, he wanted to make the man never forget what it felt like to be owned by Draco.

 

He wanted Potter to be inexplicably his, if only for tonight.

 

"Please." Potter whispered with an evident strain to his voice when Draco just continued to stare.

 

"Have you ever fucked a dildo Potter?" Draco asked as he rubbed his finger rhythmically over his entrance.

 

"I - oh - yes." His fingers curled into his own flesh as Draco kept up his light ministrations.

 

"Did you like it?"

 

Potter was silent for a moment before letting out a stilted, "y-yes."

 

Placing both hands on the shuddering man, Draco pressed his thumbs against him before pulling them back very slightly - watching in amazement as Potter moaned loudly, even though he knew it had to have hurt a little, his hole winking at him. "You would look so good with a fake cock up your arse, stretching you, keeping you nice and ready."

 

"For you?" Potter asked tentatively, gasping and bucking as Draco ran his tongue stiffly between his thumbs, pulling back right before he could fully breach him.

 

Draco shrugged but felt his heart beat faster, his cock jumping at the breathy question that sounded as if Potter wanted him to say yes. Almost as if Potter wanted him and not as a release from stress or so they could work amicably together without committing murder. It thrilled and terrified him all at once, causing him to think that perhaps this was a bad course of action, that perhaps he should shut the hell up and just fuck Potter silly till they both forgot this line of questioning. "Is that what you want Potter? Want me to bend you over my desk and fuck you with a plastic dildo before driving into you myself?" If only Draco could get his tongue to depart from the lust coursing through him and meet up with his logical side.

 

"Ohh god." Potter whimpered, his whole body twitching as he licked firmly once more, the reaction making Draco surge forward again and seal his lips around the pucker and suck - his tongue jabbing into the wet hole in quick movements that had Potter begging and crying out his name. "Anything Malfoy, anything. God that's - fuck."

 

"You sound like a cock-whore right now." He muttered as he pulled back, saliva dripping down his chin, his middle finger pressing through the slicked tight ring and right up to the second knuckle. "How many man have filled your needy little hole?" Draco demanded, watching his finger disappear and reappear in time to Potter's cries, a strange sort of monster rising in his chest as he unwillingly pictured it - Potter spread out just like he was now for who knew how many others in the past. He was a glutton for tormenting himself it seemed. His jaw clenched and he curled his finger up, seeking around until Potter jerked violently and screamed.

 

"Fuck, yes! Fuck me Malfoy, fuck me now."

 

"How many Potter?" Draco asked again, his finger brushing over and over the bundle of nerves that had the man withering and impaling himself firmly down on Draco's hand.

 

"Oh shit, oh god, yes." Potter's grip fell away from his own buttocks and landed to grip the sheets harshly, his legs staying up on their own even as Draco could see his muscles shake and strain, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat that Draco felt compelled to lick off. "Just - naggrh....one."

 

Draco's finger stilled at that as he looked up, just barely able to make out the lines of Potter's face as the flushed man breathed heavily, his eyes shut tightly and his bottom lip trembling. "One?" He asked in clarification, his heart constricting as Potter nodded and his neck arched back with the invasion of a second finger. "You've only been with one other man?"

 

Potter shook his head and Draco frowned, pumping his fingers a few times before hooking them once more to make Potter scream again. "I-I've only, Merlin yes, right there!" He pressed his hips down and wiggled, his cock heavy and leaking against his stomach. "I've only bottomed for one. Been with - mhmmm - a f-few."

 

Draco growled as he pulled his fingers free and flipped Potter abruptly so the man was pressed face first into the bed. He told himself not to be jealous but it was there anyway, growing in fervor as he tugged on Potter’s hips until the man raised up onto his knees with his arse in the air. "Recently?" He asked, placing his palms on Potter's buttocks and spreading him open again before jamming three fingers back inside - Merlin he was still so insanely tight.

 

"Fuck!" Potter cried, his hands fisting into the sheets and his forehead pressing down sharply into the bed. "No, it - the year after the war." He was breathing heavily, his voice muffled by the pillow, the small of his back a sharp downward curve.

 

"A year fucking men and then you went crawling back to Ginevra?" Pulling his fingers free, he leaned down and swirled his tongue over the abused flesh that was grasping at nothing now.

 

Potter moaned and nodded. "I thought I could..." He didn't finish and Draco didn't really need him to, he knew Potter desired a family and loved the Weasley's in a way he would never love anyone else and for some reason he understood that - understood trying to tuck a piece of yourself away in order to achieve something great. But it never worked and Potter kneeling before him with his tongue in his arse was rather blatant proof of that. People can't deny who they are forever. "Malfoy please, just...fuck me." He pleaded, pressing back against Draco's face.

 

"Anyone after the ginger?" Draco asked, needing to hear him say it for reasons that would only end up crumbling him - he was setting himself up for a spectacular fall with this blasted conversation that he couldn't seem to stop.

 

"You."

 

"And?" Draco pressed as he used the lube to slick his cock, rubbing the red head against Potter's twitching pucker. He had dreamed of doing this over the last several months, of finally pushing into his heat, but never did he actually believe he'd be here - in Potter's bedroom, on Potter's damn birthday, the man on his knees and pleading for it. He wondered not for the first time if this was what Potter was hoping would happened when he nervously stammered his invitation at the office.

 

"You."

 

Draco closed his eyes as Potter breathed that one little word again, a heat rushing through his body that just kept building as he grasped the hips before him and pressed forward - his cock forcing itself through the hot passage as Potter groaned loudly. But Merlin, he was so tight and sucking in air through his nose Draco had to rock back and forth several times before his cock slipped all the way in as Potter gasped out demands not to stop.

 

Being fully seated inside him was an experience unrivaled by any other, sending bright sparks of light behind his eyes and a low curl of need pulsing through him.

 

"Gods." Potter shuddered as Draco came to a stop deep inside him, his head bowed to rest against the shaking man’s back as he tried to catch his breath. "Knew you'd feel so good." He shifted forward a little then back, then forward a little more and back with a solid smack and a shout as Draco straightened to watch him impaling himself before shaking back into himself and snapping his hips forward to meet him. "Oh! Oh gods yes Malfoy. That's - mhmmm."

 

"Like it hard?" Draco asked as he dug his fingers into Potter's hips and picked up the pace, driving into him and shifting his position with each thrust in search of his prostrate - finding it somewhat hard to believe that Potter liked to top in most of his encounters as he seemed completely enraptured in having himself stuffed full.

 

"Yes, harder." He howled, his head thrown back as Draco managed to hit his sweet spot. "More, right there!"

 

"Merlin you look so good like this." Draco panted as he pounded him, Potter meeting each and every thrust with wild abandon, the dark haired man twisting his neck so he could look over his shoulder at him - his green eyes blown wide and so very dark, his curls sticking to his forehead. "Fuck, Potter." He breathed out as he caught his eye, a rush of something undefinable and yet so powerful he nearly tumbled over the edge as Potter moved his hips and watched him intently - Draco's hand reaching beneath him to grasp his straining prick. He jerked the man in time with his thrusts, Potter's cock heavy in his hand and Draco's back starting to ache and sweat as he held the hunched position. But he couldn't stop, he didn't want to stop, he wanted to keep fucking Potter and touching him until he saw white so bright he wouldn't ever be able to see anything as clearly again.

 

He wanted the image of Potter trying to raise shakily onto his hands so he could gain better leverage on his backward thrusts to be hung like a tapestry over the ruined boxes in his mind.

 

Potter's face contorted, his mouth falling widely open. "Malfoy! Malfoy, I'm going to cum. Don't stop, don't s-stop." Then he broke out into a jumble of curses and demands to fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, as Draco did just that until a few moments later his entire body was seizing up, his muscles contracting, as he shouted Draco's name and came onto the sheets beneath him.

 

Draco gaped at the ceiling as Potter's hole squeezed tightly around him, the spent man repeating his name softly as he all but collapsed completely. "Can you take more?" He asked without relenting from his hard and fast pace one little bit, his hands spreading over Potter's sweaty boneless back.

 

"Mhmm yes, it's good. It's so good." He sounded completely sated as he lifted his arse a fraction and closed his eyes, his head resting limply on the pillow.

 

With a quick jerk and twist he had Potter on his back beneath him, his legs held up under his elbows, bending him awkwardly as he nipped at his ear and thrust in hard and deep. Potter's arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand coming to rest lightly in his hair, his head turning until his nose was bumping into Draco's - his eyes sleepy and languid as he blinked at him. And fuck if it all wasn't too much, Potter limply but willingly taking it, smiling lazily and running his hand through his sticky hair, looking so perfectly content. 

 

"Shit." Draco gasped, feeling his balls draw up as the sound of slapping flesh rang through his ears.

 

"Cum in me." Potter whispered, his lips so close they brushed against Draco's, the barely there caress sending shock waves through his body and pulling a shattering orgasm from him as Potter clung to him and squeezed his muscles around him. He buried his face in Potter's neck as he felt every last ounce of strength leave him, everything distant and foggy except for the pounding in his chest and the feel of Potter's hand running up and down the length of his back.

 

 

****

 

 

Draco awoke to the sound of cursing and a pounding headache that spread throughout his entire body, his muscles protesting like they would following the first workout after a long physical hiatus. He pressed his face into an overly soft pillow that smelled musky and tried to ignore whatever it was that had so rudely jolted him from sleep.

 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." A groggy voice groaned next to him, the voice familiar and yet so very different, it was too rough and scratchy. But still Draco knew it, knew it so very well that he knew who it was even through the heavy fog that had rolled into his brain and the pain that was holding him captive. His stomach rolled and he muffled a groan.

 

He was so screwed.

 

The bed shook as Potter jumped up, a crash signaling the fact that he had either hit his knee on the bedside table or stumbled and fell, his voice quieter now as he cursed again. Rustling fabric reached his ear as he cracked one eye open to see Potter trying to wrestle his trousers on with his back to him, his hair a disaster on par with another level completely, his chest littered with fading marks as he turned slightly and pulled the first shirt he could find over his head. 

 

He clamped his eye shut as Potter looked his way and the next moment the bedroom door opened and shut - a sigh of relief getting lodge in his throat as Potter let out a croaked, "Hey....what, um, what's up?"

 

"You didn't show up for work, thought I'd come to make sure you made it home last night in one piece."

 

Draco shot upright at the unmistakable voice of Ron Weasley, his gaze jumping to the closed door as he listened intently.

 

"Right. Well I'm...fine." Potter said, his voice a little lower than it had been a moment ago like now that the shock was over he was trying not to wake Draco in the other room.

 

"Really?" Weasley sounded skeptical and Draco really couldn't blame him, he couldn't see Potter but even he didn't believe him simply from his tone of voice. "Because you look like shite."

 

There was a long pause where Draco swore he could hear Potter fidget. "Yeah...bit too much whiskey I reckon."

 

Weasley snorted. "I'll say, think you polished off an entire bottle yourself. What time you'd end up leaving anyway?"

 

"I...late?"

 

"Don't remember? Last I saw you were trying to convince Malfoy to play that coin game of yours."

 

"Erm."

 

"Did you succeed?" Weasley asked and Draco found his hands clutching the sticky sheets as he felt completely stuck to the spot - unable to even move and do something productive like get dressed or comb his blasted hair for when Potter returned so he wouldn't be caught just sitting there stupidly.

 

"Yeah."

 

"Did you beat his pasty arse?" Draco frowned at that, his arse wasn't pasty - pale wasn't pasty. Pale was a refined shade of cream, pasty was what happened to idiots who holed their lives away in rooms beneath the Earth and never saw the light of day.

 

"Maybe?" Potter sounded highly uncomfortable and there was a squeak of floorboards like he kept shifting his weight, his hand most likely making his hair stick up even more and hopefully not revealing the new marks on his neck that were standing out starkly next to the older ones. Merlin the man probably looked like a damn leper. Potter apparently brought out the oral side of him though he really needed to figure out a new way to keep from kissing him.

 

"Bit fuzzy eh?" Weasley laughed and Draco cringed at the sound, his hand flying to press against his forehead. "Well you think you'll make it in or should I reschedule your meeting?"

 

"Oh shit, I forgot about that." Potter grumbled.

 

"Tell you what, I'll reschedule, you take a hangover potion and get some rest and I'll see you for dinner at Mum's alright?"

 

"Yeah, alright, thanks."

 

There was a pause and the sound of feet on stairs before Weasley spoke up again. "Oh and Harry, perhaps you should make sure Malfoy made it home as well, I would hate to think what happened to the poor man all alone on the dark streets with only one shoe."

 

There was a rushing in his ears that made him completely miss Potter's reply as what Weasley had just said tried to work its way through his head, a part of him refusing to believe that the man knew anything, another part panicking at the mere thought. Either way he seemed to be screwed, so very, very screwed. Because whether he knew or not the harshness of day brought with it slowly unfurling thoughts and shining light on things that slip so easily in the shroud of dark.

 

He could somewhat remember Potter whispering in his ear at the club with his hand groping him through his jeans, could recall stumbling through the door and into the biting cold of the night. There had been an alley wall with more groping and necking, then a hastily cast sobriety charm that Draco feared they deemed successful enough to allow them to Apparate to Potter’s house.

 

Then they had fucked. In Potter's bed. With him asking him things he never should have. Merlin he had even passed out atop the other man while soft kisses were pressed to his brow.

 

And now...Merlin now what? The boxes he kept Potter confined to were so thoroughly destroyed that he couldn't even begin to sort it all out and truthfully he didn't even know if he wanted to. It would be wisest to just fold the man into one box, label it Work Potter and never let him into his personal life again. He should do everything in his power to wipe the memory of last night from his mind and move on. And yet Potter had been so open, so willing, so needy. Of him, not cock in general, they hadn't even been arguing before they jumped each other.

 

They had both just...wanted.

 

But still, he couldn't. Not fully anyway. He needed to keep a part of himself tucked away as Potter had tried and failed to do with the Weasley girl. It was almost laughable though, Draco knew people couldn't toe that kind of line for long, but then that was his only choice. Cut Potter out completely or draw a new line and tread it carefully.

 

And then be prepared to fall.

 

He cursed his own thoughts that sounded remarkably like Pansy and swung his legs over the side of the bed, glancing quickly around for his clothes only to come up blank - the vague memory of them shedding each other’s garments throughout the hall pricking him. Which was just great because now not only did he have to face Potter but he had to do so completely naked. He stared at the tan paint on the wall and ran his hands up his arms, a chill settling over him as he tried to think of the best course of action when the door opened softly. He stiffened immediately as he listened to the soft pad of feet, his arms itching to hug himself as Potter moved around behind him - opening a cupboard, shutting it with a soft thud, letting fabric hit the floor in the softest whoosh.

 

Then he felt his heart still in his chest as the bed dipped and shifted as Potter moved until he was directly behind him. Potter didn't say anything, didn't even move for a long time, and Draco was beginning to wonder if this was how they were going to deal with their awkward situation - just pretend it didn't happen, never talk or acknowledge it. The thought left him feeling oddly hollow. Then toned arms where coming around Draco's shoulders, a long piece of black cloth in his hand.

 

"Potter-" Draco started, confused and trying not to lean back into Potter's warm chest that was just as naked as his, the light touch going straight to his head.

 

"Trust me." Potter whispered in his ear while he lifted the cloth to his eyes and tightened the blindfold as Draco found, rather horrifyingly, that he did. He trusted Potter completely and he didn't even bother to wonder how Potter could possibly know that making it so they didn't have to look at each other would make this so much easier. He just accepted the little action that told him just how much Potter had been paying attention to him and waited with the man's hands dropping to his shoulders - so warm and solid, reassuring almost.

 

He bit his lip as Potter placed a tender kiss to the nape of his neck, the little action making the fine hairs stand on end.

 

Then Potter was slipping around and straddling him, revealing the fact that he was completely naked once more, a slowly hardening prick brushing against his own soft flesh that started filling without his permission. "You want to panic." Potter stated as he ran his palms flat over his bare chest, Draco's breath hitching at the gentle touch.

 

He didn't know how to answer that. It was true, he very much felt like panicking and had been on the verge for a few weeks now really. Yet how exactly would he word that, how could he possibly explain his reluctance to the man himself? He couldn't, so he kept silent.

 

"But don't." Potter continued, his touch growing in pressure and insistence as Draco felt himself getting harder despite his trepidation. "Because this is...good." His hand wrapped around Draco's cock and he jerked up, his breath hissing out at the first slow pump. "And I need it...and so do you." Potter sounded so sincere it nearly tore something inside Draco but he bit his lip harder and tried to find the line he was supposed to be drawing, cursing as it seemed to running from him. He grasped the bedsheets and clenched his teeth.

 

There was fumbling and then Potter's hand was back, this time slicked with lube, his fingers twisting up the length and squeezing at the head until Draco knew he couldn't possibly get any harder. 

 

"We fit." Potter said as Draco felt him raise himself up - his breath quite suddenly gone from Draco's neck - holding Draco's prick at the base he slowly lowered himself onto it with a pained hiss as Draco's hand flew automatically to his hips - his eyes clenching shut on instinct at the overwhelming feel of it. "We fit and you don't want to see it, so...don't. We can pretend, I don't fucking care as long as it's me you come to." He sat down, Draco fully sheathed inside his sensitive and sore passage.

 

Draco felt his hands trembling as Potter started rocking back and forth with little moans, Potter's arms wrapping around his shoulders so that there wasn't an inch of space between them, his breath suddenly brushing over his ear again. "Use me as you fit Malfoy because this is want I need."

 

Draco swallowed a moan and nodded - his arms encircling the man atop him, crushing him to him and thrusting his hips up, the black of the blindfold making every touch that much more intense as Potter's lips ran along his jaw.

 

"By the way, Luna really did have the measure of you. Deceptive hands and insane stamina indeed." Potter muttered against his neck and Draco let out a shaky laugh. It was odd in a way he had never experienced before - the movement of their bodies with the loss of his sight something that felt like pure freedom, Potter's moans the perfect sound in his ear, his lips the perfect touch on his throat, and the way his hands dug into his shoulders the perfect spike of pain.

 

He forgot about scrambling for how to label this, to label Potter, and just felt - let himself be consumed by the other man until he felt tangled up in him in a knot that wouldn't ever come undone.


	13. Chapter 13

When Draco arrived at work the next morning it was with a knot the size of his fist in his stomach and that damnable pressure on his chest again. He stood before the door leading to his annex, half turned towards it and half towards the path that would lead to Potter's cubicle, unable to make a firm decision. He could argue both paths clearly and with great support to both sides and yet here he was...stuck like a bloody imbecile with his briefcase bursting with notes in one hand and an already empty paper cup of coffee in the other.

 

Logically the best course was to go to his office, spread out his notes, and go over them meticulously again, perhaps relive the memory from the disk and then activate the second disk to see what would happened. And he should run his findings by Damaris to get a second opinion, to get a fresh set of eyes to have a look and see if he was overlooking something.

 

But then a small part of him was tugging him further into the Auror's maze of cubicles to find Potter. He could argue that it was because the man had threatened his job if he dared to activate a disk on his own again, he could state with utter sincerity that he needed Potter to sign off on a release of information that he had already stolen two days previous - but exact times didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things now did they? But really behind it all was the drive to simply see the mental man that had kept him blindfolded for much of the morning the day before as they explored each other’s bodies in near silence. 

 

He wanted to see him and...well he wasn't quite sure after that. He highly doubted there was any protocol already established for something like this.

 

"Look a little stuck there Malfoy."

 

Draco glanced over to see Weasley smirking at him with those damn twinkling eyes of his. Honestly it was like the man was determined to rival Dumbledore's enigmatic gleam lately. It was unsettling on a great many levels. "Weasley." He greeted, his hand rising to the doorknob after shoving the briefcase under his arm.

 

"Doughnut?" Weasley offered, holding out a pink lidless box to him with an assortment of fatty treats inside.

 

"Thank you but no," Draco offered him a tight, thin lipped smile. "I really must be going."

 

Weasley nodded as he cradled the box to his side. "Sure, sure. Thanks by the way."

 

Draco paused with the door cracked open, his brow wrinkling as he looked back at him. "For?"

 

"Coming to Harry's birthday. I reckon he stumbled out a piss poor invite but it was good of you to brave the lions den."

 

Having absolutely no clue how to respond to that without blushing or sounding like a piss poor idiot himself, Draco nodded curtly and fled through the door before the redhead could bring anything else up - like his missing shoe or the fact that he most likely had to step over Draco's trousers’ on the way up Potter's stairs. He didn't think he could deal with that kind of outright statement, if no one spoke of it he could still pretend that the man didn't know Draco had been the reason his friend hadn't shown up for work.

 

He debated dropping in on Damaris but quickly changed his mind as Cobble's door opened just down the way - Draco scrambling just in time into his own office to avoid seeing more than the wrinkly man's arm. Of course the rushing made him miss judge the ducking distance he needed to enact that morning and found a painful crack vibrating through his skull as he kicked the door shut.

 

"Bugger." He grumbled, tossing his empty cup towards the rubbish bin without looking, a plan to send out yet another strongly worded message to the maintenance department taking shape in his mind.

 

"You really should get that fixed you know."

 

Draco peaked out from under the hand that was rubbing at his head at the chuckling voice to find Potter seated in his chair, his cheek resting in his hand with his elbow on the armrest. He was smiling softly, looking calm and relaxed but there was a deep bruise with yellowed edges blooming under his right eye - making the corner slant down and all in all giving off the impression that he had just been in a bar fight. "What happened to your face?" He asked, setting his briefcase down and tilting his head as he examined the mark.

 

It hadn't even been a full 24 hours since he had seen the man last but apparently he had somehow managed to stir up trouble in the limited time. Probably while being stupidly heroic, perhaps he better check the man for missing fingers and toes. And maybe a thorough once over as well.

 

Potter shrugged and sat back in the chair. "Weasley family dinner."

 

"And do those typically end in brawls then?" Draco scolded.

 

"No." He laughed and lightly touched the bruise with a quick sweep of his fingers like it was simply a smudge of ink. "And it wasn't a brawl, more a...disagreement."

 

"And which Weasley were you disagreeing with?" Pulling the notes from his bag, he slipped them into the correct file and slid it into its spot in the cabinet, turning back to Potter to find the man standing behind him, casually leaning back against the desk.

 

"Not a Weasley." Potter smiled cheekily, his arms crossed over his uniform clad chest. "Not yet anyway."

 

Draco wrinkled his brow as he thought, the bruise looking so much worse with Potter's face so near him. It looked bloody horrible and made his fingers itch to do...something. "Granger hit you?" He asked as realization dawned, the very idea of the bookish woman actually punching her dear friend hard enough to leave a mark almost unfathomable.

 

Potter shrugged again. "Yeah, well, she's hormonal. She yelled, hit me, and then cried about it for an hour until Ron got her some ice cream."

 

"Hormonal? Dear god you don't mean there's going to be a bastard Weasley child running around in nine months do you?"

 

"It won't be a bastard by the time it's born." Potter chuckled. "But pretty much, yeah."

 

Draco didn't know what to say to that, was he supposed to congratulate the no doubt soon to be god parent on the newest wailing infant that was going to be in his life? Probably, but that didn't mean he had any intention to, Potter would probably look at him like he randomly sprouted a second head if he did in any case. "Why did she feel the need to punch you? And don't you dare just shrug." He narrowed his eyes as Potter was obviously seconds away from doing just that.

 

"She's...unhappy...with certain aspects of my life." Potter fidgeted, his gaze darting to his feet. "Thinks I'm playing with fire or something like that."

 

"Well you wouldn't be you if you played it safe now would you?" Draco scoffed. "Honestly, anyone who willingly lowers themselves into a cave filled with Blasted-ended Skewerts to retrieve a bloody necklace instead of just summoning it like any normal wizard would do is obviously missing a few screws in the head."

 

"I was going to summon it but you pushed me!" He retorted, shaking his head at him.

 

"No proof." Draco countered, wondering why he felt like smiling as Potter huffed and shifted against the edge of the desk. It was mildly unsettling, wishing to stretch his facial muscles in such a way simply because Potter was, well...looking like that. Actually it was just irritating and Draco's twitching smile flipped into a grimace at his own softness. Why exactly was he even discussing this with Potter? Why did he even care? Why the fuck couldn't he just pretend that he didn't know the answer to that? "And just what exactly do you think you’re doing lurking in my office?" He snapped, angry at himself and needing to take it out on someone.

 

"I'm not lurking." Potter sighed, dragging a hand through his tousled hair, the light in his eyes shifting as his lips pursed. "I'm just -"

 

"Making sure I don't go running off?" Draco stepped around him and with a flick of his wand watched as the shelves clunked into the light and the black box sailed towards them, popping open with another quick flick. Carefully lifting the disk from the second murder, Draco peered down at the green and black pattern and felt the cold trickle down his spine as it settled snugly against his palm.

 

"Well you are still wearing my Apparation bracelet." Potter muttered in his ear as he slid his arms around Draco's sides and settled his front to the blonde's stiff back, his hand curling under Draco's with his fingers brushing the brown wire. "A felony in itself."

 

"Mhmm well arresting me would mean loads of paperwork for you." Draco pointed out, noticing how oddly nice it felt to be encircled in Potter's familiar warmth.

 

"True." Potter's fingers played across his wrist and Draco suppressed a shiver. "Best to flee the scene then." And with that they were twisting and Draco's hand clamped down on the disk as they popped away.

 

The air roared around them in the way it only ever did when at the seaside as they landed just out of reach of the lapping waves, Potter's arms still firmly around him as Draco blinked in the sudden brightness, unsure if he was relieved or not that Potter had automatically brought them directly here. The second murder had been on a private strip of beach, the body of the middle aged, dark haired man washing up on the sandy shore after hours at sea - his body bloated with sea water and hair and eyelashes crusted with salt. And now they were standing mere inches from where the body had been found.

 

Draco looked at the sand and tried to picture it, finding the image splotchy and grainy as he did so, the thought of the dead man flowing back away with each lick of water near his toes like the ocean was keen on making sure no one ever knew what had happened here. "His name?" He asked quietly.

 

"Sam Wilson." Potter answered, his voice mingling with the wind and driving bits of Potter's dark hair into his vision as the man tipped his head over his shoulder. "His wife could barely recognize him."

 

Draco sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, unconsciously leaning back into Potter's strong chest. "Bugger." He said on a long exhale, the stark reality that he was going to have to enter those cold waves making him apprehensive, even more so than when he had done so at the lake for some reason.

 

"Malfoy I need you listen to me, alright?" Potter still hadn't loosened his grip and Draco couldn't decide if he was glad for that or not but he nodded anyway, waiting silently for Potter to continue, if only to further stall the inevitable. "I think this plan of yours if fucking mental but...I also know it's the only real lead we have, not that I understand it at all." He paused and Draco felt him shift and pull him back slightly, a move that seemed more impulsive and unconscious than anything. "But I also can't just let you dive into the damn ocean and hope to god that you get sent another vision instead of getting yourself killed."

 

"An impasse then." Draco frowned at the waves rolling before him.

 

Potter hummed in agreement as he nodded. "So I'm coming in with you."

 

"No." Draco refuted, his pulse thumping at the thought. He had no idea if he would witness another memory or vision or if Potter was with him if that would alter the outcome in any way. Not to mention the little fact that he simply couldn't stomach the idea of Potter being the next body to float up onto the shore, his skin spongy and his eyes dulled in death.

 

"Not up to debate." Potter used his full Auror do as I say voice and Draco bet that if he turned he would see the guarded expression that always overtook the man whenever he was staring down a supposed criminal. 

 

"Potter-" He growled somewhat tiredly.

 

"Malfoy." He shot back and Draco had the strangest thought that they really needed Weasley to make a sudden appearance right about now to break the stalemate they were undoubtedly about to find themselves in as Draco huffed and crossed his arms irritably - purposely ignoring the fact that that just made Potter squeeze him tighter.

 

"You're not going to bloody let go until I relent are you?" Draco sighed, the embrace suddenly seeming like a steel cage barring him from taking another step down this rocky road the case was taking him on.

 

"Catch on fast."

 

"Your martyr complex is exceedingly tiresome." He kicked the sand and cursed the wind as it sent his hair whipping into his eyes on an especially strong gust.

 

Potter chuckled. "What can I say, my complex seems rather fond of keeping you alive." His lips brushed under the curve of Draco's jaw as he spoke, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin as he jerked abruptly forward - breaking free from Potter and forcing the butterflies to stop attacking his fucking stomach. Honestly, it would not due to start losing blood to the southern portion of his body in a time like this.

 

He grumbled incoherently as he flung his robes off and started a tad too harshly on the buttons of his shirt, all while keeping Potter firmly out of his line of sight. Merlin something was seriously wrong with him. A little touch of the man’s lips shouldn't have sent hot pleasure coursing through his veins and it most definitely shouldn't have made him want to twist around and capture that intolerable mouth with his own. Especially now. While they were on the blasted job, while they were about to jump into the fucking ocean and pray things would turn out well. He didn't like Potter being here with him, unpleasant reactions aside, it was simply too dangerous.

 

"The current is going to try and push you back out." Potter said, apparently having slipped even further into Auror mode while Draco was angrily shedding his garments.

 

Draco bunched his socks into his shoes, grasped the disk tightly, and stepped into the water. "Goody you're here then." He grumbled, a hand appearing on his wrist, stopping him from diving under the water that was at his torso, the calm waves gushing up towards his shoulders.

 

"Malfoy," Potter's skin looked paler in the sunlight and the sparkling surface of the ocean, his expression filled with trepidation. "Be careful." He smiled softly and before Draco could so much as panic Potter was threading his fingers through his hair, tugging Draco sharply forward until their lips touched in a kiss that was softer than any other one he had ever experienced. It sent waves of pins and needles over his body, made his breath stop and his heart thump. Potter moved his mouth in a gentle caress that was over before Draco could even blink and as he felt his cheeks flush and the first stirrings of fear rise in him Potter was dropping his hand down to grasp Draco's and then they were no longer above the surface but instead looking at each other though the silver, wavering light of the ocean.

 

Draco didn't have time to ponder the feelings coursing through him, didn't even have time to register the urge to mold himself to Potter and kiss him properly because he could already feel the disk pulsing in his hand and with a quick downward glance he had all but a second before a noise that sounded like hundreds of feet running on ancient stone was drowning out everything else as a tentacle touched him and he was sucked through once more.

 

He was running, fleeing down an upward sloping tunnel made of pure stone.

 

Though there was the clear impression that it wasn't his feet hitting the ground, that it wasn't his breath he could hear loudly puffing out, that it wasn't his fear that he could feel lacing through him. He wasn't witnessing the memory from afar this time, he was in the center of it, looking out from whoever was running with everything they had. He could feel an oppression constricting his lungs, he could feel the person's legs burn with each step, could feel the thump of their heart. He could feel the dark coil of magic making their limbs twitch and feet stumble, the magic that was making their head split and turn around in circles before they, she, was sobbing and going up the tunnel again.

 

He could hear her chanting. Telling herself that she would make it, that this time she would make it. Then her knee was connecting sharply with the stone floor, slicing into her skin and making blood trickle. Draco felt that pain but it was nothing compared to the surge of magic that nearly overwhelmed him as she rolled onto her back and gasped for breath.

 

"No, no, no, no." She was sobbing and Draco saw her lift her hands and then it all went black as she pressed them over her eyes. "Get out, get out, get out!" She screamed at no one. Except no, that wasn't right. She was screaming at the magic inside her that was making her legs jerk like a puppet, that was tugging her back down the tunnel that was leading deeper into the earth. Time stretched for what felt like hours before she was crawling back up the tunnel, her long, grimy blonde hair in her eyes, then she was speaking again in broken sobs.

 

She was calling for him.

 

Then something coarse and painful was wrapping around her ankle and with a scream she was flying back down the tunnel, away from the light that had been a growing speck at the end.

 

As he was thrown back into his own body, delirious and nauseous and shaking, Draco was vaguely aware of arms around him and water surging over his head before he was breaking the surface and gulping in clean air. The sun blinded him as he was pulled through the waves and flopped onto the wet sand. There were fingers pushing the hair from his face, a forehead pressed to his, blocking out the too bright light.

 

"Wake up now you bloody idiot. Fucking...wake up!" Potter's thumb was brushing over his cheek bone, his voice cracking like he was sure Draco had just been claimed as victim number 7 despite the fact that his eyes were already open - or maybe they weren't, it was actually too difficult to tell at the moment.

 

"M'awake." He sputtered, the terror that had gripped him as he had resided in the girl’s body slowly receding only to be replaced by his fear for her - whoever she was - the sinking reality that she hadn't escaped clamping down over his lungs.

 

"What happened?" Potter asked, pulling back slightly to peer down at him, the water clinging to his sopping hair falling in drops onto Draco's face.

 

"There was a girl...I think she was the same one from last time." Draco closed his eyes and pictured what he could of her, of her flash of blonde hair and the pale, dainty hands before they had covered her eyes. But more than anything she felt the same and she sounded the same - the way her voice shook as she spoke his name sending a chill down his spine as he thought on it. "I think...older though." He wasn't sure how he knew that, he just did. "She was running up a tunnel, trying to escape."

 

"Escape what?" Potter asked softly as he shifted till he was lying on his side, his fingers never leaving Draco's cheek.

 

Draco shook his head. "I don't know. But she was struggling to even walk at times, something inside her was trying to drag her back down." Like a puppet with broken strings, Draco thought, remembering he had tried to explain that exact same feeling to Potter not long ago. Perhaps this, she, had been what he had been feeling all along. Perhaps she was the one who was making him feel like he was treading on someone else’s consciousness. Perhaps the disks were her way of reaching out to him.

 

Oh god, Draco felt tears prick his eyes as sorrow overwhelmed him. She had been calling him like he was some sort of...but he wasn't. Merlin he wasn't and he didn't even know who she was, where she was, or even if she was fucking real.

 

"Did she escape?" Potter sounded reluctant to voice his question and god did Draco wish he hadn't.

 

His throat went dry and he shook his head again.

 

"Did you recognize her?"

 

"No." Draco responded although she did seem somewhat familiar but he wasn't sure if that was because of all that had been going on, the odd connection between them, or if he had actually known her at some point in his life. "We need to get the next disk." He sat up abruptly, a sense of urgency filling him as he thought of her. Trapped, filled with dark magic, and waiting...for him.

 

"Not today." Potter jumped up with him, clamping his hand over his elbow and keeping him from spinning away. "You need to recuperate."

 

"I'm fine." Draco jerked free and scooped up his clothes, frowning as he shrugged on his robes over his wet and shirtless body - not that it mattered, he was simply going to get the next disk and hop back into some sort of water.

 

"You're shaking." He pointed out, flicking his own wand when Draco's third attempt at a drying charm failed. "I'm not going to let you get in over your head."

 

Draco laughed at that, the sound a bitter thing that stung his own ears. "Over my head? Merlin Potter this whole thing is over my head! People don't depend on me to save them, I'm not the hero, that's you!"

 

Potter looked at him sadly, reaching out to touch him again. "Malfoy-"

 

"No," Draco sprung backwards and out of his reach. "I have to find her, I have to..." He paused as a thought hit him, the idea taking a slow shape in his mind. It was long shot but it might lead to something. "I have to go." He muttered and before Potter could respond he was grabbing his shoes and spinning away.

 

 

****

 

 

Blaise sat in the stiff winged back chair, the cigarette in his hand burning down towards his fingers with a thick pile of ash collecting at the tip. He gazed steadily back at Draco with his deep brown eyes, his tongue stayed and silent. "Well, that's...quite the story." He said slowly, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

 

Draco nodded, flicking the curling mess of hair out of his face.

 

"Have you spoken to Pansy about this?" He asked, stabbing the wasted stick out in a nearby ashtray.

 

Draco didn't answer, just lifted his eyes carefully to fix on Blaise's. He could never mention this to Pansy, could never bring up that day when her failure to murder brought about Draco's intimate taste of it. He couldn't bring up Theo either, not ever. It was their unspoken agreement. They didn't speak of it, keeping it swept under the rug.

 

Blaise nodded in understanding. "An odd memory to have stumbled across." He mused.

 

"It was deliberate. I think she...whoever she is...wanted me to see it again." Draco set his untouched glass of brandy down and stood stiffly, striding to the ornate fireplace and staring into the flames roaring there - the heat a nearly tangible thing. Funny how used to being cold he had already gotten, to the point that the fire so near him was almost too much.

 

"Any idea as to why?"

 

"No. I don't...who expect the people there would have the memory of it? Everyone there was fully pledged Death Eaters and I can't see any reason they'd want me to relive that moment. I haven't spoken of it to anyone. Which leaves just Pansy and she-"

 

"Told the story once." Blaise interrupted him, Draco's head snapping to the side to look at the darker man, the question silent on his lips. "The night it happened, she was sent back to school. I overheard her sobbing it out to the girls in her dorm before Snape came to calm her down."

 

Draco quickly ran through the girls Pansy roomed with - Tracy, Millicent, and Daphne. He pictured Pansy, the girl's stalwart leader, distraught and incoherent - sobbing over the death of a friend and painting Draco in the kind of light Draco saw himself portrayed in in the memory from the disk. She had colored him her hero, he knew that, and apparently she had told others before clamping her tongue shut forever on the subject. But Tracy was small with dishwater hair and jagged fingernails from biting them. Millicent was stout and thick, messy brown hair chopped short. And Daphne...Daphne was the closest thing to the girl he had seen in the vision but it couldn't have been her because she had grown to nearly rival Draco in height by the end of school.

 

"Could anyone else have heard?" He asked, desperately trying to make some sort of connection.

 

Blaise shrugged. "Perhaps. You think whoever is impregnating the disks with memories overhead Pansy's retelling?"

 

"It's a theory at least."

 

Blaise was silent for a long while as they both thought on it. "I think you know what you need to do then." He said and Draco let out a long breath, wishing to Merlin that he didn't. But it was the logical next step, the only one that made any sense from where he was standing. The problem was he didn't know if he could do that to her, if he could make her open those gates and relive that night that she so adamantly suppressed.


	14. Chapter 14

"Potter." Draco snapped as he entered the cubicle late in the day when most the office had already emptied, but there the man sat - his head in his hand, a file sitting idle before him as he stared at it tiredly with a wan expression. "Weasley gone for the day?"

 

Potter jerked to attention, spilling his pot of ink and cursing as it soaked the edge of his sleeve. "What?" He asked confused, spelling the mess away with a deep frown. "Ron? I believe so..." He blinked as he raked his gaze over Draco's rumpled appearance, his hair still an air dried mess from the ocean that morning, his cheeks flushed from the wandering walk he had just come from, and his shirt creased in odd places from all his fidgeting during the long day. All in all Draco knew he looked exactly as he felt - worn thin and close to cracking. "Something wrong? You look...weird."

 

"How kind of you to notice." Draco missed the coat hook but didn't bother to bend and retrieve his fallen cloak, instead he simply stepped over it - Potter's eyes going owlishly wide as he did so - and marched towards the desk. "And what does believe so mean? Is the man gone or not?"

 

"Are you ill?" Potter asked, his gaze jumping to the rumpled cloak on the ground and back up to Draco's face.

 

Draco waved away his skeptical concern. "Concentrate Potter. It's rather simple, Weasley, gone or not?"

 

"Gone." He answered, cocking his head in puzzlement. "Are you sure you're alright? And where have you been? You disappeared after - oomph." Draco had him up and out of his seat before he could even process Draco's movement around the desk - a steady hand tangled in his too damn alluring Auror uniform as he pressed him into the sleek filing cabinet, Potter's eyes wide and his arms made useless at his side by shock. "What -?"

 

It wasn't until that precise moment that Draco realized that this was exactly why he had trudged all the way back to the Ministry, why he had risked countless less than savory run ins with numerous officials, why he wasn't studying the memories he had seen, or most importantly why he wasn't standing in Pansy's overly ornate pallor with a sour taste in his mouth. He had pushed it all to the back of his mind and found himself here - Potter warm under his hand, Potter with his concerned gaze that was already darkening with the heat inside him, he was here because of Potter. "I hate this bloody uniform." Draco unfurled his grip and plucked at the buttons as he pressed his body closer, breathing in Potter's scent that made him dizzy instantly. He needed that now, needed Potter to wrap up his senses completely, needed him to calm the unsettled jittery feeling in his bones.

 

"You do?" Potter asked dazed.

 

Draco nodded, tugging the tails of the red and black shirt free as his lips found the skin under Potter's ear, the patch that was already marked due to the fact that Potter seemed to melt like butter whenever he was kissed there. This time was no different, the man's arms moving to wrap around his shoulders and his body slumping into his as his head fell to the side with a moan. "Too fucking tempting." Draco growled, dragging Potter's shirt off his shoulders until it caught on his elbows and just hung there like some obscene frame to his biceps that tensed and softened seemingly with every hitch of Potter's breath.

 

"Is that a compliment?" Potter asked then groaned as Draco spun them around and shoved him onto the desk, yanking the shirt completely from his body as he did so - one of the picture frames toppling precariously before crashing to the floor with a crack, neither of them bothering to even glance in its shattered direction. Potter caught himself on his forearms, his toes pressed into the floor as he gazed back at Draco with a hooded look that sent his blood boiling - the man's trousers already tenting obviously.

 

There was the sound of a door shutting and a laugh just down the hall. Draco lifted his eyebrow at him as he undid his own trousers, letting them hang open on his hips as Potter stared at his crotch. "Best be quiet." He said lowly, letting his own palm press and linger over his hardening member - the knowledge of who knew how many people near by adding to the buzzing in his head.

 

"Fuck." Potter breathed out, his legs spreading in an invitation that Draco didn't know if he thought through or not. But it didn't matter, he was on the man the next second, pressing him into the wood and kissing down his chest, his hand fitting under Potter's thigh and lifting his leg up until it rested on his hip. "Oh fuck." He repeated breathlessly, his hand threading through Draco's hair as the other hand reached up to grip the edge of the desk, his hips pressing up into Draco's.

 

"Ever thought about us fucking on your desk?" Draco muttered against his skin, Potter's free foot curling around his calf as he nipped at his nipple, smiling at the choked cry that forced itself from Potter's lips. Merlin knew Draco had often enough, in fact it had been Potter standing behind the wooden desk with his gaze fierce and his palms planted flat as they shouted at each other the first time Draco had ever really thought about him in that way. It had been a brief flash of desire to push Potter over it and shut him up in a crass way that would prevent him from making any coherent noise.

 

"All the bloody time." Potter arched and Draco glanced up with his lips sealed around the sensitive nub, smiling as he saw Potter bite harshly into his lip before gasping out a silent shout - the notion of not making any noise apparently something he was struggling with. It made Draco want to test his restraint.

 

"Turn over." He said with one last lick, straightening with the feeling of complete elation as Potter gave him a lustful look and did as asked, his hips bent over the desk with his arms reaching up to grasp the opposite edge - bracing himself. It was a heady experience having Potter so readily complying to his instruction, each time they were together compounding on the next until he felt nearly flooded with it, his eyes closing as he was forced to take a steadying breath. 

 

When he opened them again, he wasted no time in yanking Potter's trousers and boxers down until the swell of his arse was visible, his hands splaying on the firm globes. Potter moaned and pressed back into his touch and Draco had to blink rapidly to keep himself collected. Merlin but Potter was like a drug, addictive and habit forming, poised to ruin his life forever if he wasn't careful. Running his finger between Potter's cheeks, he fumbled one handed with his own trousers until he managed to wiggle them down just enough to draw himself out.

 

"Need something to bite on?" Draco teased as he ran the tip of his cock over Potter's crack, pressing the already slick head against his tight hole with just enough pressure to elicit another heavy gasp and make him press his hips towards him as he spread his legs as wide as he could while still maintaining his position.

 

"Probably." He let out a shaky laugh, his spine curving as his rubbed his arse crack over Draco's cock. "Do you?"

 

"I have something." Draco whispered, his hands running up Potter's back and over his shoulders to drive his point home - biting into his creamy skin that smelled so purely like Potter was another thing he could add to the list of things he was growing obsessed with.

 

"Merlin Malfoy you better fuck me now." He said huskily as he shivered under the blondes touch, his shoulders tensing as his forehead hit the desk.

 

Grasping his wand that he had thankfully remembered to keep close at hand, Draco muttered a spell, his hand suddenly slick with lube as he stroked his cock with his finger pressed just past the tight ring of Potter's entrance. "You're not ready yet." He muttered, watching as Potter's hole fluttered around the small intrusion, a thin sheen of sweat already breaking out along the man's lower back, his thighs strained.

 

Potter shook his head quickly. "I am, just do it."

 

Draco wasn't sure why those little words sent arousal rushing through him or why it made his eyesight go unfocused until he managed to blink it way - perhaps it was the tone of Potter's voice, whispered and yet urgent, his arse lifting in offering. Or maybe it was the whitening of his knuckles on the desk or the way Potter's hole clenched around his finger in rapid repetition like he was desperate to be filled. But whatever it was, he hardly registered Potter's moan that he was obviously trying and not quite succeeding to silence as he pushed one slicked finger inside him, a second quickly following before Potter even had a moment to adjust.

 

"Want your cock, fuck, I want it now." Potter panted, his hips moving back on Draco's scissoring fingers.

 

Pulling his hand free, he lined himself up, gripped Potter's hip with one hand and his shoulder with the other, and pushed forward - the head meeting resistance since he wasn't nearly stretched enough but a moment later he was slipping through as they both let out a stifled moan. Then he snapped his hips forward, burring himself fully and making his balls slap against Potter's - the man's head shooting up off the desk as he sucked in a sharp breath - the unbelievable tight heat overwhelming and making every nerve in his body buzz with electricity.

 

"Oh god." Potter groaned. "You...gods." 

 

"So you've said." Draco muttered before whispering a quick noise dampening spell that made the sound of skin hitting skin as he pulled out and pushed back in as well as the creak of the desk beneath them fade to a quieter pitch - still there to be heard but only if one was truly listening for it. With the sporadic noise of the nearly abandoned office around them and Potter's poorly stifled moans under him, Draco quickly lost himself in the feel of it - let the rhythm of insane tightness and cool escape coil through him, driving out the tension in his shoulders.

 

He watched Potter's bowed head, stared at the peak of full lips he could see whenever the man jerked his head after a particularly deep thrust, and worked at making that mouth fall into a perfect 'o' like it did whenever his cock dragged across his prostrate. He set himself the task of making Potter fall completely apart and thought of nothing else. He raked his nails down Potter's slick back, leaving red welts in its wake, grabbed Potter's cock that was nearly trapped against the wood and pulled.

 

Draco growled obscenities that made the man lose purchase of the desk several times, made the slim muscles in his back contract and his eyes squeeze closed, he pounded him and told him to cum and then bent down and sunk his teeth into his shoulder blade as he did so - his hand lifting to spread the mess over Potter's red arse when he gave all he had.

 

Then as he watched Potter's body twitch while he came back down, he finally gave into his own pleasure - snapping his hips forward quickly and biting into Potter's shoulder once more to keep from groaning out loud, his arms somehow sneaking under Potter's torso to press the man back into his chest. He panted into the Auror's ear and listened to the words the other was speaking without really hearing them, his leverage slowly slipping as he ground into the body beneath. But it didn't matter because a moment later and he was cuming.

 

If he could think straight he might have wondered why he always seemed to end up hugging Potter as he reached his peak. But he couldn't and honestly didn't want to, knowing that self-analyzing this would be a futile endeavor and wishing with a small part of himself that he could just stay like he was - burred in Potter with the man sticky and hot in his arms. Instead he relaxed his arms, slipped back fully onto his feet, and pried himself off of the other man - his lip curling in self-disgust at his ruined attire and quaking nerves as he tucked himself back away. He dragged a hand through his hair and all but collapsed back into the filing cabinet, watching through heavy eyes as Potter stood stiffly with a grimace, his hands just a tad unsteady as he pulled his trousers up over his debauched backside.

 

Potter's eyes were downcast as he retrieved his shirt and slipped it on, his fingers pausing over the last button before he finally looked up and caught Draco's eye - the look in them making his heart clench. "I take it the lead you rushed off to follow didn't quite go your way then?" He asked after a quickly muttered cleaning charm that washed over Draco as well with the feel of sandpaper scrubbing along his sensitized skin.

 

He forced away a visible cringe and deflated further against the cabinet, his energy sapped and with the last drop of sweat whisked off his body he felt the turmoil that had been plaguing him since visiting Blaise return in full force. He nodded and looked down at his hands, finding it suddenly hard to look straight at the other man. "In a way yes and no."

 

Draco saw Potter shift his feet against the worn carpet that the Ministry kept talking about replacing but never actually did. "Where did you go?"

 

"To see Blaise." He answered honestly.

 

"Why?"

 

"The girl in the memories or whatever the hell they are...she seems familiar and I was hoping that maybe..." He trailed off and Potter nodded when he glanced up quickly at him.

 

"Could he tell you anything?" Potter asked, thankfully forgoing the reprimand at having spoken in detail about the case to someone without clearance.

 

Draco didn't know how to answer that exactly, he also felt oddly enough like both laughing and crying as he was forced to think about that one fateful night so many years ago again. He was already resigned to the fact that he was going to be waking up from nightmares featuring both Nott and Pansy that night. "He pointed me in a possible direction."

 

"And you don't like where it leads do you?"

 

And there it was again, a small but blatant reminder that Potter knew him so very well - that he could read the minute reactions on his face, that he knew what the twitch of his facial muscles meant and why he kept rubbing his thumb over his middle knuckle in a nervous tick. He forced his thumb still and clenched his jaw, his face going slack. "No, not in the least."

 

"Not planning a trip to Azkaban are you?" Potter stopped his relentless fidgeting as he spoke in a dark, deliberate tone that told Draco that if the answer was yes that Potter was going to be at his shoulder when he did so.

 

"No."

 

"Parkinson then?"

 

Draco looked up sharply, unnerved by Potter's accurate guess. "How did you...?"

 

He shrugged, a forlorn smile tugging at his lips, an appalling look of sympathy entering his eyes. "The memory, she was a key part of it. She was the next step if nothing else surfaced."

 

"You were going to interrogate her?" Draco sneered, anger suddenly gripping him at the thought of Potter forcing her into a hard little chair and demanding she relive her nightmare - without so much as a word to Draco beforehand.

 

"Malfoy-" Potter sounded tired again, his hand rubbing over his face with his fingers pressing under his glasses and into his eyes. "I can't just leave her to you. You can lead it but I have to be there, you know that."

 

Draco desperately wanted to be obstinate, to protest that he absolutely did not know any such thing, but the downward slope of Potter's shoulders and the line appearing on his brow stopped him. He swallowed down his irrational anger and nodded, perhaps it would be better this way anyway. Perhaps having Potter there would smooth the road, if only a little, then again perhaps he was only fooling himself again. "Fine." He gritted out, resigned. "But we don't bring her in, we'll do it at mine."

 

"Alright, tomorrow?"

 

Draco agreed with only a smidgen of a sneer to his face as he did so, nervous about facing her and yet relieved about having a plan, the idea that he knew exactly where his next step would fall lending some peace to his troubled mind. Of course now that that was settled he was left with his back to the cabinet with Potter and the desk before him, blocking his escape. The uncomfortable silence pricked at him and he was just about to simply grumble a farewell and flee when Potter took a deep breath and spoke.

 

"So...dinner?" He asked after clearing his throat twice.

 

"What?" Draco's eyes narrowed in confusion, something that felt like apprehension settling inside him.

 

Potter leaned back against the edge of the desk with a small smile on his lips, his hand pushing his curls away from his forehead. "It's late, I'm hungry, and you look like you haven't touched a proper meal in days."

 

Well that was true, he hadn't, not really - but that really wasn't the point. He couldn't be bothered to notice that he was indeed hungry because Potter had just asked him to dinner and that sounded suspiciously like a...date. Draco had absolutely no intention of dating Potter, no matter how much one might have to squint to see it as such. "I don't-"

 

"We can take my bike." Potter plowed on. "It's parked out the visitor’s entrance."

 

Draco shook his head and opened his mouth to further decline.

 

"You can drive." Potter raised an eyebrow at him, smirking like the manipulative bastard he was. 

 

 

****

 

 

"How can you not like gin?"

 

Potter chuckled at him bemusedly from across the small table, their dinner plates nearly empty and the contents of the bread basket smashed to bits by Draco's nervous picking. Potter shrugged and sat back, his whiskey sour tipping innocently in his hand. "Why is that odd? Plenty of people don't."

 

"But it's you." Draco countered and frowned, knowing his argument was lacking but unable to figure out how to expand it - his head a bit light from the one to many drinks he had consumed. Merlin hanging around Potter was going to turn him into an alcoholic. And apparently severely lowered his inhibitions, his body leaning precariously towards Potter - towards his lips precisely - before he realized what he was doing and snapped himself back. 

 

"Still not following." Potter smiled a little lopsided at the jerky, aborted movement - his tongue peeking out to wet his damn lips.

 

"Trees Potter." Draco explained, sticking the lime wedge between his lips and sucking out the juice to shut himself up before he pulled a Lovegood and slid under the table before proceeding to snog Potter senseless in the middle of the crowded restaurant.

 

"Right...trees." He mimicked him, his eyes shining bright as he leaned closer with his elbows on the table. "What about trees?"

 

"You smell like them." Draco confirmed after spitting out the useless peel - great now there was nothing left to suck on.

 

"...Okay." Potter was fully grinning now, the lip stretching expression making Draco scowl and bite into his abused tongue.

 

"And gin tastes like...trees." Oh god, he really needed to stop drinking - and talking - Potter so obviously overly enjoying Draco's lack of conversation skills at the moment. "So...there." He waved a wobbly hand in the air and frowned at the melted ice in his glass.

 

"So you're saying that your choice drink makes you think of me?" Potter asked, sounding far too smug. "Of the way I smell in particular?"

 

"I am simply pointing out the theme of trees, no need to get all sappy eyed at me." Draco grumbled, a blush stinging his cheeks.

 

"Sappy eyed?" Potter laughed. "You're rather pissed aren't you?"

 

Draco scoffed and ripped off a chunk of bread, holding the mutilated piece in his hand without any idea what to further do with it - since when was he so fidgety anyway? "Is it aftershave?" He asked instead of the stinging comeback he had vaguely planned in retaliation to the 'pissed' comment.

 

"Is what?" His nose screwed up in confusion, carving three wrinkles above his eyes, the sight of them nearly making Draco lift his hand to sooth them away in a complete lack of control again.

 

"The trees, Merlin Potter keep up."

 

"No, I don't wear aftershave. Do you camp a lot?"

 

"Camp?" Draco recoiled in shock. "Why the fuck would I want to voluntarily sleep on the ground, in the fucking cold when I have a perfectly warm bed in my lovely furnished home?"

 

Potter shrugged. "I don't know, you just seem to really have a thing for trees, surprising as that is."

 

"I don't have a thing for trees, I have a thing for the way you smell." Draco replied offhandedly before promptly clamping his mouth shut in horror. Fuck, did he actually just say that? Out loud and to Potter of all people? "I mean, not a thing, it's just...soothing?"

 

Potter was grinning widely at him as he leaned closer, his chest hovering over the table, the shadow of his evening stubble darkening his face and framing his lips that Draco was having a tremendously hard time not staring at - Merlin, but that mouth was begging to be kissed. "Soothing? That's what Luna said after she kissed me."

 

Draco scoffed and tossed the bread back down after crushing it into a smooshed ball in his fist, setting a glare on the much too happy man across from him. "That you remember?" He grumbled, not altogether sure why Potter recounting that odd little detail while grinning was making him agitated. 

 

"Not only that." He clarified with a rather perverse spark to his eyes, making Draco's cheeks and ears pink once more. "So...do I?"

 

"Do you what Potter?" Draco asked, signaling the waitress and unwisely ordering another gin neat and a full glass of water. 

 

"Taste woodsy, like gin?"

 

There was no way of knowing if his insides or his cheeks were hotter now, those words falling from Potter's lips with the way he was leering at him making everything feel like a damn broken furnace. It was a side of Potter he was seeing more and more lately and Draco couldn't help but label him Salacious Potter despite the fact that the boxes were beyond repair and it was all just a tad silly. But still, he needed some way to cope with it, to categorize it, and Merlin if he didn't feel his heart pick up whenever this particular Potter made an appearance.

 

"I wouldn't know now would I?" Draco ground out, taking a large sip of his freshened drink and letting it trickle down his throat slowly. It was invigorating having it burn down into his stomach with Potter staring at him, so close that he could smell him, so close that he could easily reach across and pull him over the table to meld their mouths together - sharing the liquor and thus insuring that Potter did taste like it whether he actually did on his own or not.

 

Potter's gaze dropped to the blondes reddened lips, the look a heavy thing that made Draco have to fight against the urge to reach up and touch his own mouth as it tingled under the man's scrutiny. He couldn't remember a time he had been so very aware of his own skin, his own lips, than in that moment as Potter swallowed thickly, his throat working visibly. "You could." He said simply, his voice thick and low.

 

"I think not." Draco tore his gaze away from Potter's face and looked down into his drink, wondering how he had managed to get himself into this situation - again. Blasted Potter and his damn motorbike. Yet despite the fact that he had kissed Potter literally everywhere else on his body he couldn't seem to gather the courage to do that. It made no logical sense but there it was. Not to mention the briefest kiss while they were soaked through in the ocean was still nearly tangible on his lips, the memory of that careful slide of Potter's mouth and the way he had gripped him during it all making his heart flutter maddeningly when he wasn't paying close enough attention to shut down the gut reaction.

 

There had to be something wrong with him considering that it was that damn barely there kiss that had him in knots and not the memory of having Potter spread over his own desk and speared on his cock. Well maybe that had a little to do with it but still...

 

"But you want to." Potter stated as he pulled from his wallet enough to pay for the meal, dropping the bills on the table as he stood quickly. Draco felt glued to the spot by a powerful sticking charm as Potter rounded the table and let his hand run feather light up his arm and over his shoulder, pausing to rest on his neck in a caress that sent shivers up his spine. "I can wait until you're ready to stop pretending though." He muttered in a voice that was just as intoxicating as his touch and then he was gone, leaving Draco to stare at his now empty chair and lick his own bottom lip as his heart pounded in his chest.


	15. Chapter 15

"This better be good Draco, I'm missing my salon appointment for this." Pansy grumbled as she swept from the floo, dusting non-existent ash from her startling red robes.

 

"Morning to you too Pansy." Draco set his tea cup down and rose from his chair in polite greeting, the teapot lifting to pour its contents into the second empty cup with a flick of his wand.

 

Pansy raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed. "Pleasantries aren't necessary between friends who have bathed together." 

 

"When we were two." Draco pointed out, offering the cup of tea anyway despite her crossed arms, knowing that Pansy would continue to snip until she had some - the woman was positively dreadful in the morning.

 

"Yes and since then I've seen you fondle numerous men and stick your hands down Potter's pants so I think we are still past it don't you think?" She smirked and took the cup, arranging herself somewhat gracefully on the black leather lounge. "By the way I got a rather interesting owl from Blaise yesterday."

 

Draco paused with his hand on the back of his chair, his thoughts and body stilling. "Did you now?"

 

"Mhmm." She nodded, taking a tiny sip before carefully and meticulously settling herself comfortably in place. "Mentioned you had stopped by and that I may want to check in on you. Something about you being all...twitchy."

 

"Twitchy?" He narrowed his eyes. "I do not twitch."

 

"Sure you don't darling." Pansy smiled condescendingly, pausing to take another deliberately slow sip. "In either case I did stop by but guess who wasn't home?"

 

"I sense a story." Draco sighed, dropping down into his chair and crossing his long legs at the ankle. "Is it possible to skip the preliminaries and just get to the punch?"

 

Pansy didn't even bother replying to that, her finger twirling in her hair at her neck as she stared devilishly at him. "Imagine my worry when I waited around and it grew steadily later and you still hadn't shown. I was positively quaking with nerves, I mean what if something had happened to you? For all I knew you had been so twitchy-"

 

"I wasn't twitchy." Draco snapped.

 

"-that you stumbled right into the road and got run over by one of those horrid muggle contraptions."

 

"You mean a car." Draco cracked his jaw open and forced himself to take a sip of tea - hoping it would calm him a little.

 

"Yes, that's the one. A car. For all I knew you were lying in the road bleeding to death and crying for your dear sweet Pans." She spoke in a flourishing voice, like she was regaling an entire audience with a story of near death, her hand pressed dramatically over her heart.

 

"I assure you I wasn't."

 

"So I thought to myself that I would just pop by your office to make sure you were safe and sound." She was smirking fully now and Draco felt his stomach plummet at the look she was giving him - telling himself that surely she hadn't. "But you weren't there either, your horrid dank office with that awful doorframe was completely empty. Why I nearly had a fit of panic but then that batty woman you work with D-something-"

 

"Damaris." Draco supplied, unsure why he was helping her along with her story that was surely heading in a very bad direction, Draco's skin already pricking with uncomfortable heat.

 

"Mhmm right, her, well she suggested that you were probably with Potter and wouldn't you know that his cubicle with just down the hall and to the right?" She fell silent to let a pregnant pause fill the space between them, her eyes fixed on Draco's face as he tried not to squirm in front of her. "So naturally, being the most wonderful friend I am, I rushed through that dreadful maze of cubicles only to hear the oddest thing. Want to guess what it was?"

 

"No." Draco ground out, his hand tight on his thigh, firmly deciding that Pansy needed a new hobby to keep her obsessive attention. Or better yet, an actual job so that she wouldn't have the time to stick her nose in his life even if she wanted to.

 

"It was very faint but very clearly Potter. Begging. He apparently wanted something done harder." She tipped her chin triumphantly, her legs crossing as if to emphasize her point. "Any idea what he could have been talking about?"

 

"Pansy love, do you honestly have nothing better to do than to stalk me?" He asked, refusing to rise to the bait but also knowing it was useless to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about, the memory she was stirring up making a thin string of arousal spin through him.

 

He was actually lucky that she hadn't jumped in on them, proclaiming, "Ahha! I knew it!" considering how desperate she was in catching him with his hands dirty so to speak.

 

She shook her head. "No, not really. Remember dear I'm married to the biggest bore of the century and thus must live vicariously through you and since you are so ardently stringent about giving up any good details I must go hunting for myself. You know how I love the details and now I have some, like did you know that Potter has a tight, cock-hungry arse and that you apparently have a rather dirty mouth when it comes down to it? I mean Merlin Draco, how do even think of some of the things you were growling at him?"

 

"I'm not talking about this with you." Draco felt his entire body flush and knew his face was an embarrassing shade of pink as he stood abruptly, setting his teacup down loudly on the table.

 

"And he liked it." She continued, sounding like she was talking more to herself than to him now, her voice filled with breathy wonder. "I mean you told him to...well, to make it fit for polite conversation, to 'take it' and he just kept begging for more."

 

"I'm going to go get the biscuits." Draco muttered, wishing not for the first time that he and Pansy actually had some boundaries between them because honestly he did not need a recount of what happened between him and Potter from his slightly mentally addled best friend. But that was foolhardy because there never would be any between them, Pansy knew him too well just like he knew her and it was that deep connection that made her so invaluable to him and what also made her so damn agitating.

 

He was doomed to hear about his sex life with the Auror until something else shiny caught her fancy. Unfortunately he didn't see that happening any time soon. And now he was fleeing to his kitchen as she sat in his study when what he needed to be doing was preparing her for what she was actually there for, though he couldn't figure out which one was actually worse - Pansy talking about Potter's tight arse and Draco's enjoyment of it or Pansy staring at him in horror as he and Potter ask her to open up her locked memories. 

 

There was a sharp knock at the door and Draco nearly thrust his head through the nearest wall because not only was he nowhere near having prepared Pansy for what was to come but Potter was here. Early, for once in his fucking life. Rushing to the door before the man could knock again and potentially alert Pansy to his presence, Draco yanked it open and glowered at the man standing on his stoop - his hair windblown and that damnable leather jacket hugging him once more.

 

God but Potter looked fit right then, the way riding his bike through the air made his skin flush and hair tangle making him far too irresistible. 

 

"Bloody fuck." Draco breathed out, wondering how it was possible for him to become so aroused so quickly when all Potter had done was stand at his threshold and look at him.

 

"Hey." Potter smiled back at him, amusement clearly evident in his eyes. "Thought I'd stop by early so we could go over our strategy."

 

"Brilliant Potter, except for one thing." Draco wondered if the stress and want was evident in his tone as he gripped the door and continued to refuse him entrance. "She's already here."

 

His face fell as his eyes shifted to a spot over Draco's shoulder and back. "Oh."

 

"Indeed."

 

"Well, should I...?" He shifted his weight and blinked at Draco, his expression much too crestfallen for it to have simply been because they couldn't coordinate notes.

 

"Draco!" Pansy's voice rang from down the hall causing Draco to cringe. "Are you almost done because I just thought of something, does Potter always ac-"

 

It all happened in agonizing slow motion, Potter's eyes traveling curiously back down the hall as the floor creaked and Pansy presumably rounded the corner, his head cocked in question just as her voice trailed off on a surprised 'oh' - Draco's eyes slipping shut to keep from watching anymore of what was nothing short of a train wreck, at least in Draco's opinion, firmly deciding in that moment that Potter and Pansy shouldn't ever be allowed to converse.

 

"Potter?" Pansy asked skeptically as Draco debated the merit of never turning around and laying eyes on his friend again - if only to save face and not have to witness her no doubt shocked but smug expression.

 

"Erm, good morning Parkinson." Potter replied with stiff politeness. "Do I always what?"

 

"Mhmm? Oh...nothing." Pansy laughed, the sound strained like her voice usually got when she was around the great Harry Potter, the very man she had once tried to turn over to the Dark Lord in a fit of panic.

 

Draco opened his eyes just in time to see the confusion flicker over Potter's face as he opened his mouth to reply and in a move that may not have been the wisest Draco was shoving him backwards with a quickly muttered, "give us just a moment?" and snapping the door shut in his face. 

 

"Well that was classy." Pansy snickered.

 

Draco whipped around to glare at her, stalking nearer as she held her ground. "Do not mention any of your details. I mean it Pansy, no innuendo, nothing alright?"

 

"Tetchy." She rolled her eyes.

 

"Pansy." He gritted, peaking behind himself, surprised when he found the door still firmly shut - half assuming that Potter would have already come bursting indignantly back inside.

 

"Yes, alright, I swear to keep any and all salacious comments to myself." She sighed, her eyes narrowed as she studied his face. "What is he doing here anyway? Come to sweep you off to a romantic breakfast?"

 

"Hardly." Draco snorted, all humor gushing right back out of him as he was faced with the remembered reality of why Potter was currently on his stoop - no doubt scowling menacingly and plotting Draco's punishment. "He's actually here to speak with you." He said softly, watching as the puzzlement and apprehension filled her face.

 

"Why?" She asked slowly, taking an unconscious step backwards, her voice sounding suddenly quite small.

 

"Remember when he fetched you to watch over me after something happened on a case?" Draco took her hand in his, the physical connection seeming to snap the daze right back out of her eyes, though she still looked fearful and uncertain as she nodded. "Well more things have been happening. Odd things that I don't fully understand. But somehow each murder has a memory connected to it, things from long ago and some...I'm not sure. But there was one memory in particular that we feel may lead in the right direction if we can just figure out why it was attached in the first place."

 

"You're not making much sense." She spoke softly, her dark brown eyes falling to where he held her hand. "What does this have to do with me? He doesn't think that I...does he?"

 

Draco shook his head quickly. "No, of course not, no one is accusing you of anything." He reassured her, trying to figure out how to form the next part of his explanation after having so thoroughly butchered the first. "You...and me, we are the focus of the memory. It's of the night Theo died."

 

 

****

 

 

Pansy was sitting very still on the lounge, her eyes vacant and skin pale, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap.

 

Draco hovered in the doorway, uncertain what to do with himself, his arms oddly heavy and useless. He wondered if he should be next to her, holding her, reassuring her, protecting her. He wondered if he should bar Potter from ever speaking to her again. He wondered if she would ever be able to fully meet his eye again after having sat through Potter's questions and given them her memory of that night in a glass phial. He wondered if Potter would ever touch him again after viewing it.

 

Tea - he was supposed to be fetching tea, he reminded himself, that was why he was up and not beside her any longer. But he couldn't seem to leave the room completely, worried that if he did she would slip away from him forever. He felt like he had failed her somehow.

 

"Malfoy?"

 

Draco turned halfway to spot Potter over his right shoulder, Pansy's memory in his hand and a strange unreadable emotion in his eyes. "Mhmm?" He hummed quietly, apprehension filling him now that Potter was back - now that Potter not only knew but had witnessed him becoming a murderer.

 

"Are you alright?" Potter asked quietly after peaking over his shoulder at Pansy and then he reached out and touched him - a light hand on his wrist, a simple gesture that crumbled him, a weakness spreading through him that made him feel faint as he realized that he hadn't been wondering if Potter would ever touch him again, he had been sure he wouldn't.

 

"I'm fine." He breathed out, sagging into the doorframe with his back to Pansy, guilt pricking him for even worrying about himself at the moment and forcing away the unsettling fact that just the possibility of that had terrified him.

 

Potter looked like he wanted to say something, his fingers lingering on Draco's, as he breathed deeply through his nose. "You were right about her roommates witnessing the story." He spoke softly, taking a tiny step closer. "But there was someone else there as well."

 

"Who?" Draco asked, feeling his pulse pick up at the possibility.

 

"I don't know, whoever it was, was mostly hidden beneath the bedcovers." He paused and glanced back at Pansy. "We'll need to ask her."

 

Draco tensed and inexplicably found his hands gripping the open flaps of Potter's leather jacket as he stared at the stark contrast between it and his pale fingers. "Now?" He murmured as he silently scolded himself, ordering his hands to let go but finding himself unable to. His emotions running much too high as he waited for Potter's response.

 

What he didn't except was for Potter to slip his hand up to his cheek and slide closer, their foreheads nearly connecting with a soft inhale. "You did what you had to do Draco." He whispered as his eyes fell shut.

 

It took him a moment to realize what Potter was talking about but once realization hit he felt a tremor race down him. The war hero was absolving him of guilt of the crime he had committed against his friend, he was in as few words as necessary reassuring him that he had done what he needed to and he wasn't the evil being he thought himself to be for it. Because for years Draco had woken from dreaming of that night in a sweat, for years he had turned it around and around in his head - trying to scope out a different way he could have had handled things. He was sure that if it had been Potter in the same situation that he would have found a way to save both Theo and Pansy - that he would have never turned his wand on a friend no matter how dire the circumstance. It was living with Theo's blood on his hands and Pansy's torn spirit because of it that had marked him more than any ugly tattoo ever could - the Dark Mark had faded to unsightly scars up and down his forearm but he had assumed the mark left from that one night never would.

 

And it wasn't until that moment as he heard Potter lift a fraction of the weight from his chest that he had been waiting for his judgment on it for all these years. It was absurd to think that Potter telling him his opinion would make any difference and yet it did.

 

It felt like light hitting a dark hole in his soul, he felt like smiling and crying and his hands were wrapping around Potter's waist and his nose was bumping into Potter's less pointy one. He let out a noise that sounded both like a whimper and a cry as he tipped his chin and pressed him mouth quickly over Potter's, pulling back immediately only to find himself unable to keep from pressing right back in - Potter's lips so soft and warm as he peppered his mouth with kisses that grew longer and longer each time he was pulled back towards him by his own need until he could no longer pull back at all.

 

Their mouths melded fully together and Draco felt undone as the man's taste flooded his tongue. He tasted nothing like gin, he didn't even taste earthy like he smelled. He tasted like black tea and spices and something so purely him. He drank him in, pressing his body closer until they weren't separated by even a speck of air, his tongue caressing Potter's as he shivered and melted into a puddle of heat - Potter's hands holding his head like he was determined to prevent Draco's escape.

 

Except he had absolutely no intention of escaping. He had no intention of ever stopping. Kissing Potter made him feel alive, so very, very alive. He wasn't sure when it started to turn frantic, when he had spun them until Potter was pressed into the wall beside the open door, when his hand had tangled itself in Potter's hair. He wasn't sure how he managed to pull back and gulp in air before his lips were attacking Potter's once more, he wasn't sure how he suddenly remembered where they were and who was sitting in the room behind them.

 

He wasn't sure how he managed to stop kissing him even after reality crashed back into him. He panted with his forehead against Potter's, their lips inches away as Draco blinked and tried to regain his senses that Potter had so thoroughly stolen. It wasn't helping that Potter was still placing wet kisses over his tingling lips and along his jaw, that his hands had slipped down to grip the blondes back in a binding embrace. It didn't help that he knew his bed was just down the hall and now that he knew what kissing him was like all he could think about was doing it again and again as he took him – slowly and languidly, drawing out their pleasure until they were nothing but a muddle of want.

 

"I'll just get the tea then shall I?"

 

Draco turned his head at the exact same time Potter did, their eyes landing on Pansy with a cocky smile on her lips and a flush on her cheeks while still locked in their intimate embrace. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth only to have nothing come out, his breathing far too loud in the hall and making Pansy’s smirk deepen.

 

"Carry on, I'll be in the kitchen." She said cheekily before sweeping past them and disappearing a moment later.

 

"Shit." He groaned, finally having found his voice, one hand leaving Potter's hair to brace himself against the wall. "I'm never going to hear the end of this."

 

Potter's laugh was breathless and when Draco shifted his gaze to him he quickly realized that was a terrible mistake - freshly snogged Potter was even more irresistible than I just dropped out of the sky Potter. "Well look at it this way, at least she's out of her depressed shock from the questioning." He smiled then tipped his head a little, biting into the corner of his plump bottom lip as he studied Draco's expression. "Are you going to kiss me again?"

 

"Best not." Draco replied but didn't make any move to untangle himself from the other man.

 

"Yeah..." Potter agreed but then a second later his tongue was back in Draco's mouth in a kiss that was quick and hard like Potter was determined to make sure Draco never second guessed the merits of kissing him ever again.

 

Not that he needed any more convincing, especially when Potter moaned a little broken sound that vibrated all the way down to the pit of his stomach.

 

When the embrace begrudgingly ended, Draco pulled himself away as a noise from the kitchen jostled him back into his senses. He took a steadying breath and poorly willed his untimely erection away as Potter panted against the wall – his lips shiny with saliva and his cheeks housing a radiant flush. "Right...so," he cleared his throat and glanced up. "...Pansy."

 

Potter smiled and nodded, raking a hand through his hair and pushing himself upright, an obvious bulge in his jeans making Draco want to push him right back up against it - leaving the questioning to later and giving Pansy more details for her overactive, sex starved mind. They stared at each other for a moment with a coil tight in his belly before Draco scoffed at his own rapidly beating heart and turned sharply away - leading them down the hall and into the kitchen.

 

"All finished?" Pansy grinned lewdly at them from her spot at the small square table, her gaze traveling slowly and purposely up and down each of them in turn.

 

Draco very deliberately kept himself from squirming and glanced back at Potter to gauge his reaction to the blatant appraisal. "Find the tea?" He asked, looking pointedly down at the empty table before her.

 

She shook her head. "Oh no, too busy."

 

Draco narrowed his eyes at that. "Pansy-"

 

"We have one more question." Potter interrupted him, bumping into his shoulder in pure Gryffindor style as he swept into the kitchen and plopped down across from Pansy at the table.

 

"Imagine that, so do I."

 

"Ours first." Draco grumbled before she could open her mouth and do something that would force him to strangle her to get her to shut back up.

 

Pansy assessed him silently for a moment before nodding. "Alright but that means I get two questions then." She leveraged and Draco inwardly cursed her Slytherin nature as he stiffly nodded in agreement - already dreading what she would think up.

 

Potter glanced between them, his nose wrinkling but he thankfully didn't comment on it, his back straightening in Auror mode when Draco nodded at him to continue. "The memory you gave, when you were back in your dorm, there was a fourth person you didn't mention, someone hiding in a bed. Can you recall who that was?"

 

The smile fell off Pansy's face as she forced her mind back once more to that night, the distant look overriding the overt glee of having just caught Draco in the act. He watched her struggled, watched the emotions pull at her face and slump her shoulders. He was kneeling in front of her in the next moment, her hands in his. He squeezed her smaller fingers and murmured her name softly until she glanced up at him. "It's important Pans, you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't. There was Tracy, Millicent, Daphne, and...?"

 

"Her sister." She answered very quietly. "Her sister I think."

 

"Who's sister?" Potter asked from above them.

 

"Daphne's." She muttered, her eyes slipping closed as she concentrated hard. "Astoria I think was her name."

 

"Greengrass?" Potter clarified.

 

"Yes. She spent a lot of time in our room, she suffered from nightmares during our last year there." Pansy opened her eyes and locked them with Draco's. "Remember her? She barely ever let go of Daphne all year."

 

Draco desperately tried to place her, to remember what she looked like, but it was all hazy - he had had little time for younger classmates during his time at Hogwarts, especially during his sixth and seventh year when he barely saw anyone besides Pansy and Blaise. "What did she look like?" He pressed, his palms suddenly slick with sweat in opposition to the cold that had started back down his spine.

 

She shrugged lightly. "I...like Daphne but...daintier?" She whispered and Draco felt his insides seize up, the briefest flash of what he knew of the girl from the memories accosting him but he refused to let it settle in him completely, not until he knew for sure. Jumping to conclusions at this point would only slow him down and send him careening in the wrong direction.

 

"Anything else you can remember that might be useful?" Potter questioned.

 

Pansy thought for a moment and then shook her head. "No. I don't remember much from that year."

 

"Thank you." Draco whispered as he gathered her into a rare hug, the fact that she melted immediately forward and into him proof of just how hard this had been for her. He caught Potter's eye as he held her, refusing to let go until she felt steady under his hands, the Auror smiling faintly at them before mouthing a goodbye that had the band constricting Draco's heart tighten further. He was grateful that Potter had the tact to make himself scarce and would no doubt be running off to track down the Greengrass family, as he waited for Pansy to return to her snarky self - his mind unwilling lingering on Potter's soft smile as he knelt on his kitchen floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading! I would love to hear what you think :)


	16. Chapter 16

The long coil of rope disappeared into the blackness beneath him, the softest thwack of nylon on water pinging quietly several yards down as the rope stretched to its full length. Draco stared down after it, his boots planted solidly on the old stone circle with the harness snug around his waist and thighs.

 

"He's going to kill you, you know." Weasley grumbled for the hundredth time behind him.

 

"I know." Draco drawled, testing the knot and double checking the thread of the rope through the anchor above him and the belay device on his harness.

 

"And me. He's sure to go all mental on me for this which means you’re going to owe me. Big time." He continued and Draco forced himself not to roll his eyes.

 

"I know." Draco repeated, his pulse beating irregularly and much too fast at the prospect of lowering himself into the bleak hole with its cracked stone wall. And to think muggles did this all the time…for fun. Barmy lunatics. Of course they tended to rappel off mountain sides and crevices, not unnerving ancient wells where someone had died not long ago. "He'll get over it."

 

Weasley snorted. "Have you met Harry?"

 

Draco scowled at the black pit, his hands tight on the rope that would either see him safe to the bottom or be the cause of his broken neck and untimely death. "He's not my keeper."

 

"No, but he's got this weird thing about you not dying." Weasley chuckled and Draco could hear him fiddle with the extra climbing gear. "Any idea where that's coming from?"

 

"His traumatized heroic brain I'd say. And I'm not going to die." Draco glanced back at the red head, giving him a pointed look. "Besides if he was so concerned then he would be here instead of having gone rushing off to archives now wouldn't he?" He knew he sounded a bit bitter, the edge sneaking into his tone without his consent. He knew he shouldn't have been, that arriving at work that morning to find Potter gone with a note from him on his desk proclaiming that he was away looking into the Greengrass's shouldn't have made him frown so strongly nor should it have caused the clipped way in which he spoke to Damaris as she breezed by his office. He shouldn't have been upset that he wasn't there, that he wasn't going to get to accidently run into him, what would he have done if he had anyway?

 

He didn't want to discuss Pansy and her two bloody questions that made him flush and stammer just a little (honestly the things she thought of were just insane and Draco had firmly decided to never give her carte blanche ever again) after she had recovered from reliving her trauma. Not to mention the fact that the last time he had seen the man had been right after randomly snogging him senseless. Which was something that made him alternately heat with desire and want to beat his head against a wall in retaliation to his own stupidity. Honestly kissing Potter had to have been the best and worst decision of his entire damn life - and of course it was just his luck that he ran out of resistance and had given in right in front of Pansy.

 

He hated himself that Potter absolving a portion of his guilt had made him hunger for him like that, that he had simply needed the other man in that moment. That the well of emotions had crested so high that there was no possible way he could have brought himself back from it on his own. And now that he had had a taste he craved him in a way he never had before. His fingers flexed on the rope as his feet shifted closer to the edge, desperately trying to push Potter back to the corner of his mind so he could fully concentrate on the task at hand.

 

"Remember what I told you?" Draco asked without looking back, his gaze intent on the darkness.

 

"Yeah. Keep a look out and don't pull you back up unless you signal for me to." Weasley grumbled then paused, his hand appearing on the stone wall next to Draco's foot. "Are you sure about this? Harry told me about last time and I just think that maybe we should wait."

 

Draco glanced down and caught his deep blue eyes, something akin to worry coloring their depths, the emotion making Draco's brow furrow and confusion cloud his head. He knew that Weasley no longer hated him, that he even seemed to like him well enough lately but him worrying...for his safety? That was just too bizarre. "For what?" Draco demanded. "If there's another memory we need to access it and this is the only way I know how to go about doing that."

 

"I know that, it's just..." he trailed off, pushing a hand through his fiery mane in a manner so very much like Potter that it had Draco blinking uncomfortably down at him for a moment. "We should wait for Harry."

 

"Or we could not sit around twiddling our thumbs till he deems to grace us with his presence and do it now." Draco scolded, twisting sharply and pushing off the top of the wall with his toes, his body falling freely for a moment before his feet found the old stone sides - his boots connecting solidly and bringing back his equilibrium as he hung in the air above the pit.

 

With one hand curled tightly around the rope above him and the other on the rope below him, Draco inched his way down into the well, the sun slowly growing more and more distant as the air become thicker - smelling strongly of sodden dirt and mildew, an unsettling feeling creeping up his spine and spreading out through his limbs. The darkness engulfed him and Draco breathed out, wondering if this was the last sight and feeling the man who had died here had experienced before passing into the afterlife or if perhaps he was already dead when his body tumbled into the rank depths Draco now found himself in.

 

He couldn't help but hope for the latter.

 

Moments later and his feet were splashing into cold, rancid water that pressed up to his knees before he touched the ground and let go of the rope. Casting a quick lighting charm he re-pocketed his wand and withdrew the disk, staring at it in the dim light before letting it drop from his hand to plop smoothly into the water.

 

It took longer this time and Draco was starting to grow worried that nothing would happen when it glowed green and the still water all around him started vibrating, bubbling like something was heating it from underneath. He felt the now familiar fear and tugging overwhelm him, watched the tentacles spread out towards him, as a soft feminine voice rose to echo in his ears. He bent his legs, landing heavily on his knees as he was pulled under - the girl’s voice speaking urgently and yet incomprehensibly to him.

 

He gasped as his lungs were constricted painfully and then the pressure was lessening as he found himself suddenly back at Hogwarts, in the Slytherin dormitories. There was no one around him but he could hear the other students - cowering behind doors like that could save them from the Carrow's wrath when they were in the mood for punishment. Draco could nearly taste the fear that predominated the very air, the stench making him slightly ill. He looked around himself only to realize that this wasn't the boy's dormitories but the girls, his hand on the dungeon wall feeling much too real and solid for his comfort level as he reminded himself that he wasn't really here - that this was a memory. Just a memory...

 

The sound of feet behind him had him turning swiftly, his gaze landing on the figure of himself at seventeen - Merlin he had been so skinny then, it was a wonder he hadn't just completely wasted away into nothing before the year was out. His younger shelf wore a hard expression, a slim black bag clenched in his hand. Draco watched himself walk determinedly down the hall as he desperately tried to remember what was going on, what would happen next. But he couldn't because he didn't remember this, a realization that chilled him as he followed himself around a corner and right up to Pansy's dorm room door. He knocked so very softly it could barely be heard and then without waiting for a reply past Draco was glancing around himself before pushing inside, pressing the door quickly shut behind himself - Draco finding himself suddenly and inexplicably inside the room as well in the very next instant.

 

"Draco." Pansy gasped from the bed, leaping up from it and rushing to him - her hair limp and unwashed around her face, her skin devoid of color. "I didn't...how did it go?"

 

He shook his head, his expression grim. "They made a decision."

 

"And?" She asked fearfully.

 

Draco glanced around the room as his younger self kept staring at Pansy to find her roommates all there along with the dainty form of a familiar blonde haired girl a couple years younger than himself - his heart slowing painfully at the sight of her. It was the girl from the memories. The one who had spent the last few weeks crying and screaming in his head - the one who had tried and failed to escape from the tunnel. He swallowed with difficulty and took a step forward, desperate to wrap her up and whisk her away only to realize that the girl was staring at his past self with wide, scared and yet hopeful eyes. She was staring at him in much the same way he had seen numerous girls stare at Potter, the very idea of it sending dread washing over him.

 

"It's not good." He spoke quietly and saw the girl start to tremble from head to toe on the corner of the bed. 

 

"But they wouldn't..." Daphne cried from the corner of the room, rushing over to the girl, her arm looping protectively around her as Draco came to the conclusion that it was her sister - Astoria. Though even now, even though he knew logically that it was her, he still couldn't remember her, not really - she was nothing but a smudge on his memory that refused to be wiped clean.

 

"Their coming tonight." Draco's voice echoed eerily through the room, settling like a heavy thorny blanket over them all. "Soon."

 

"Who." Daphne demanded breathlessly.

 

Past Draco's gaze shifted from Pansy to Astoria, the girl’s eyes filling instantly with tears before shutting tight, shrouding everything around Draco in black until he couldn't see anything and all he could hear was her terrified breathing. Then there was the sound of splintering wood, of running, of screaming, and the feeling of being thrown violently about. But it was all disconnected, all just feeling, and right before he found himself tumbling out of the memory he heard Astoria crying for him again, only this time he felt that she was speaking directly to him in the past - the feeling of being ripped away in two different time lines threatening to make him scream from the intensity and insanity of it all. 

 

When he returned to himself, slumped against the slimy side of the well, he felt more disorientated and confused than ever before - his legs shaking as he forced himself to his feet and staggered into the opposite rounded side of stone. He breathed in deep and tried to organize his thoughts but there was a pain in his head the size of a planet and all he could grasp onto was the abstruse knowledge that something unbelievably important had happened that night - that he had done something and the fact that he couldn't remember even a fragment of it a clear sign that someone didn't want him too.

 

He didn't know how long he stood there with his forehead pressed against the slippery stone but it seemed like ages before he sent the signal to Weasley to pull him back up into the day light. With his feet on the vertical wall and his head back in the past he slowly ascended until he was surrounded by light and his boots found the edge of the wall, his balance wavering unsteadily for a moment. He opened his mouth to mutter a 'thank you' only to find the rope spinning loose with a hand on his wrist - yanking him down and off of the wells lip.

 

He stumbled and cursed, glancing sharply up to see Potter's face looming before his own - his lips a firm puckered line and eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did I tell you?" He growled, the rope tangled in one hand, the other latched onto Draco's wrist.

 

"I didn't go off alone, I brought your Weasley with me." Draco grumbled, blinking in the bright light and trying to find his balance that seemed to be eluding him.

 

"You couldn't wait a bloody hour? You just had to throw yourself down a damn well?" Potter took one intimidating step forward and Draco felt his head spin as the memory pressed against this skull.

 

"I didn't throw myself and like I said, I brought Weasley didn't I? Or are you implying that your partner is incompetent?" He tipped backwards then swayed forward, cursing his damn equilibrium for still being off and fighting against a shiver as his wet cloths stuck uncomfortably to his skin.

 

"No, I'm implying that I need to be with you when you do this! Merlin Malfoy I swear your trying to make me go mental lately." He ranted, letting go of Draco's wrist and tugging a hand through his hair jerkily. "I don't understand why-"

 

"It's Astoria Potter." Draco cut him off, watching as that one little revelation soaked up all of Potter's indignation and left him staring disbelievingly at him as Draco fought against the immense urge to simply collapse forward and into Potter's strong chest - he felt far too splintered to be standing on his own. "The girl is Astoria."

 

 

****

 

 

"Well that's just...fuck."

 

Draco nodded at Potter's tired sigh, quite agreeing with his statement. It was indeed just fucked. He fidgeted with the hem of Potter's jumper that the man had let him borrow as his own clothes, while dry thanks to a quick charm, still smelled too strongly like mildew - making him feel as if he was still at the bottom of the well with Astoria getting ripped away from him over and over again. He stared at the hearth that was empty of flame, the lack of its warmth making the cold inside Draco feel more pronounced and threatening as they sat on opposite ends of the comfy, worn couch that was far too ugly for Potter to own and yet here it was - glaring amongst all the other pieces of furniture in the man's parlor. Though why they were in the man's house instead of at the office was a mystery and one Draco couldn't find in himself to outwardly question - perhaps because he really didn't want to deal with the loud Auror department or more likely because wearing Potter's baggy clothes made him feel safe with his scent wrapped so completely around him.

 

But then that in turn made him feel guilty with the nagging knowledge of what the past held and what may still be happening to her.

 

"Any luck tracking the Greengrass' down?" Draco asked softly, his stomach still in knots over the latest memory as his fingers picked at a loose thread.

 

Potter nodded. "They moved to Belgium."

 

"And Astoria? Is she," he paused and swallowed thickly, knowing that he needed to hear the answer and yet dreading it anyway. "Is she with them?"

 

Potter looked over at him, holding his gaze for a long moment before shaking his head. "No. She disappeared during the war, though according to all the reports none of the family seems to have any real memory of the incident. There were searches for a while but it yielded nothing and the family moved soon after the case was pronounced cold and closed." He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, his hands clenching on his thighs. "The Auror's barely even looked from what I can tell."

 

"Of course not." Draco sneered. "Why would they? She was associated with Death Eaters, no one probably gave a fuck about her."

 

"It was a confusing time Malfoy, people were still frightened." He said but he didn't sound like he meant it, like it was just something he was supposed to say in a time like this.

 

"And that makes it alright?" Draco snapped.

 

"No." Potter didn't elaborate and Draco was grateful for that, the simple answer somehow seeming more genuine that way. "The question we need to deal with right now is why are her memories and emotions in the disks? If she's still being held captive how is that happening and is the murderer the same one keeping her prisoner? That night you said they were coming for her but you don't remember anything after that?"

 

Draco shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut tight, much like Astoria had done in the memory. "No, I don't remember that night at all, I don't even really remember her even though I know I should. I think...I think I've been Obliviated."

 

"It does seem likely." Potter murmured. "Her family too."

 

"Could the Obliviators reverse it?" Draco asked, the hem of the sleeve unraveling as he tugged sharply on the loose thread.

 

Potter sighed softly. "I don't know, it will be a long shot. It's been so long since the memory was removed they might not be able to retrieve it and if they do it may only be fragments."

 

"Great." Draco grumbled. "I'm so fucking tired of fragmented memories, it only makes everything more confusing and I don't...I can't...Merlin I need my memory back." His back curved as he slumped forward, his face falling into his hands as he breathed deeply through his nose.

 

The couch dipped seconds before Draco felt a hand laid gently between his shoulder blades. "We'll find her Malfoy."

 

"I need the memory Potter." He repeated, his voice muffled against his own palm.

 

"I know it's hard to have time stolen but it may be impossible." Potter said, scooting closer until his leg pressed against Draco's, his fingers running in a circle over his back. "But we will find her and the murderer, I promise, and that's all that really matters."

 

Draco shook his head adamantly. "No, it's not."

 

"Why?"

 

Draco's hands dragged down over his face until just three fingers covered his mouth partially, his gaze fixing back on the empty fireplace. "Because what if I'm responsible? What if I did something horrible? What if I'm the reason she's been held captive for 11 fucking years? What if I'm not a better person like I've tried to be but still just a coward who does the bidding of evil? What if I'm the puppet and I don't even know it?" His voice shook as emotion and fear gripped him, the vision of himself striding down the deserted corridor in the dormitories while everyone else hid accosting him. What had he been doing? Where had he been? And how did he know they were coming for Astoria? And why did the girl look upon him like her hero? Why did he feel like she had been physically gripping him in the blackness and screaming at him for help?

 

"You're not." Potter corrected firmly, his arm moving to capture Draco in an one-sided embrace, like he was afraid Draco was going to jump up and run away again.

 

"How do you know?" He sounded pathetically weak, his tone one that would have made his father frown sharply and reprimand him as a child - but there was something about Potter, about the strong feeling of his arm around him and the way his voice sounded hard and protective that made his walls crumble. He sounded certain and Draco was quickly coming to realize that was a rare thing indeed.

 

Potter dragged in a sharp breath and bent his head until his forehead was pressed into Draco's temple. "Because if you were, I wouldn't..." His words echoed softly right in Draco's ear, making him freeze in place as he waited for Potter to finish that thought. But instead of doing so Draco felt Potter's fingers lightly touch his cheek, turning his face towards him, their eyes connecting for a brief intense moment before Potter was leaning forward and lightly capturing Draco's lips with his own.

 

The kiss was soft and gentle, Potter's arms moving to wrap tightly around him, trapping him in place as Draco felt his heart beat painfully and moisture prick behind his eyelids. It was humiliating to think that he was close to actually crying as Potter's lips slid carefully over his, that the way the man's hand splayed possessively across the small of his back made him ache with longing, that the first touch of the others tongue against his had dragged a whimper from his throat.

 

"Wouldn't what?" He breathed out against Potter's mouth, his hands having somehow gotten tangled in the man's shirt.

 

"I've seen you at your lowest and worse and at your highest and best. I've seen it all, I've been there for it all." Potter muttered, twisting them carefully but forcefully until Draco suddenly found himself on his back, Potter splayed out atop him as he kissed him once more - this time a little harder, a little quicker. "And Draco you...you have such passion in your blood that you hold so fervently back. But I can see it, it breaks through in moments that are dazzling even though you try to keep it tucked away."

 

"I'm not so complex." Draco kept his eyes tightly closed, worried that if he was to open them that Potter would see the wetness in them.

 

Potter chuckled, kissing him sloppily. "Yes you are and it took me a long while to see it and understand it. I mean, Draco your job is to help protect the innocent from dark magic."

 

"Maybe I just like playing with dark magic and not having to worry about going to Azkaban for it." He countered, his words coming out barely coherent as he tried to keep kissing Potter as he spoke, his hands traveling down the man's back and then back up under his shirt to the warm skin underneath. "Nothing pure or heroic about it."

 

"Perhaps but that's not it and you know it. I've seen the way some of the cases effect you. How this case is nearly making you go mad." Potter left his mouth and trailed his lips down Draco's neck, his hands simultaneously pushing the thick fabric of the jumper up Draco's torso. "The past may hold nothing but regret but it doesn't matter. What matters is who you are now. And like I said, if you were just an evil slimy git then I wouldn't..." he didn't finish that thought again, instead he just leaned back and tugged the jumper up and over Draco's head - tossing it to the floor before tugging his own off and attacking Draco's mouth once more. 

 

"You wouldn't what?" Draco demanded, if a bit breathlessly as Potter's bare skin on his own was snapping his last strings of coherent thought.

 

"You are beautiful." Potter whispered between kisses. "And smart with that damn wicked tongue of yours and I can't stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try. Long before that first night at the club you invaded me and all I want is to be with you, all the fucking time. I see you in the office and I want to snog you in the middle of the hall, I hear your voice and it makes me want you with a fucking terrifying passion. I want to wake up every morning sore with you beside me. I want you to take me whenever and wherever you want. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine."

 

Draco's head was spinning with Potter's declaration, his words looping round and round his head as he bit back a moan that Potter was trying to pull from his mouth by pressing his hips forward and rocking into his crotch that was rapidly filling. The very notion of Potter wanting him like that purely and utterly insane but oh so amazing. Potter's hands were working his fly open, his too big borrowed trousers pushed down to his ankles and kicked off as he tried to form a logical response, as he tried to desperately catch up to where they were.

 

"You want to know why I never heal the marks you make? Because I like knowing their there, I like the idea that you've branded me, I like the thought that if someone was curious enough to look closely that they would see what you've done to me. I like when you don't even bother to make sure we're properly alone before using me, I love that there's so many stranger's who've seen you with your hands down my pants at the club or that have caught a glimpse of me on my knees for you. I like it because I don't want there to be any doubt that it's me who’s made you so flushed." 

 

Draco couldn't keep his eyes from springing open, welling tears be damned, his gaze landing immediately on Potter seconds before the man was grabbing his cock at the base and pressing a kiss to the full head. He had no idea how to respond, the revelation that Potter...Merlin that Potter was so fucking kinky and desperate for him making words fail him. He had always thought that they were just messing around, that it was just a release of tension and a way to deal with each other. He had never let himself consider it being anything more because who in their right mind would ever guess that Potter would desire him beyond an easy but fantastic fuck.

 

Draco gritted his teeth and cursed as Potter swirled his tongue over the head, licking wetly over the underside of his cock and returning to the tip to swipe away each and every drop of precum it leaked with a little moan. He licked and sucked with hallowed cheeks until Draco was bucking into his mouth with a much too quickly approaching orgasm - Potter suddenly pulling completely off and pressing himself along Draco's body once more, kissing him harshly with Draco's own taste on the man's tongue.

 

"I know I said that I didn't care if you wanted to pretend but I've changed my mind." His eyes were so dark when he pulled back and looked down at Draco, his hands holding himself up on either side of the blonde. "I want you and you want me and I'm going to show you just exactly what you do to me." Potter grinned mischievously, Draco's pulse picking up and beating rapidly as he bent to kiss him deliriously once more.


	17. Chapter 17

Draco stared down into the potion sitting idly on his desk. It was dark green in color, like mud with grass blended in, the thickness of it evident without even tipping the phial sideways. He pursed his lips as he debated it, his fingers tapping out on his desk as his eyes wandered over to the note laying open beside it.

 

Take on an empty stomach. Be sure to clear the area in case of a fall.

 

That was all it said. Short, concise, and right to the point - much like the Obliviator who had written it. Draco liked that, the unease rolling through his stomach taking a small comfort in the blatant attitude shining through on the parchment. He had spent the entire last two days with the professional memory erasers, lying on a hard bed as they magically probed his brain and asked him question after question until everything started bleeding together in a surreal sort of haze - all in hopes of retrieving his stolen time.

 

Yet it was all for not. They weren't able to turn up anything. Apparently whoever had erased his memories had done a spectacular job, there wasn't even a trace of residual memory left over for the Obliviators (and a few Unspeakables if those men with far too erect postures were as he guessed) to work with. He had been released that morning, his feet tiredly trudging up from the depths of the Ministry and back to his own department - his chair a welcomed sight as his tired and spent body fell into it.

 

He had then promptly passed out due to sheer exhaustion only to wake sometime later with his back and neck aching to find the potion waiting for him.

 

"Bugger." He grumbled, angling his neck sharply to the side till he heard a tiny pop and felt a modicum of relief - he hated feeling stiff, his muscles bound so tightly he feared they would snap and sever without much effort at all. Of course the physical pain was nowhere near what his head felt like, his very brain feeling like someone had been scrubbing over it with a toothbrush and floss, picking at the crevices and looking for a disease that was so well hidden that it would never see the light of day. 

 

What he needed was to go home and go to bed and get some proper sleep - but instead here he was, nowhere nearer his memories or the murderer or Astoria and staring at a vile looking concoction that he was apparently supposed to drink.

 

"Did I just see Obliviator Candon leaving?" Damaris asked in her trilling voice as she poked her head in the door without so much as a curtsey knock.

 

Draco nodded as his fingers pressed into his temple. "Indeed." His voice scratched on his throat and he frowned, Merlin he even sounded like he felt.

 

"Classy man that one." She smiled at him, her piercing gaze jumping down to the phial and then back up to him, her middle finger pressing the bridge of her spectacles back in place. "Need help moving your desk?"

 

A smile twitched on Draco's lips as he shook his head, not even bothering to wonder how she could possibly know what the concoction was for. That was just part of Damaris's charm, it was very much like working with a part seer and part barmy blind bat who indulged a tad too much in grog. "I'll manage."

 

Damaris blinked and adjusted her glasses again in an odd sort of acknowledgment. "Mhmm. Well, you were requested for a new case while you were out."

 

Draco sat up straighter at that, his head cocking in question. "Oh?"

 

"Yes, something...oh something about rubbish bins...no...teapots..."

 

"Teapots?" Draco lifted an eyebrow, the brief pulse of excitement melting back away. Not that he had time to take on a new case anyway, he was already drowning in his current one and very behind on the other two artifacts he was supposed to be drawing up reports for.

 

"Fascinating bit of magic. It seems that if its user were to try brewing oolong in it then they'd shrink to the size of a pin." She was gazing waveringly at the wall just over his head as she spoke, her voice getting misty as her mind was drawn elsewhere. "Took days for the Auror's to find him."

 

"You took the case then I assume?" Draco held back a chuckle as he watched her sway in his doorframe, her small stature fitting perfectly beneath it.

 

"Yes of course, Mr. Potter insisted."

 

Draco felt something flutter in his stomach at the mention of the Auror, his cheeks heating without his consent. "Did he?" He cleared his throat and suddenly wished for a glass of water to appear before him.

 

"A touch feverish dear?" Damaris stepped towards him.

 

"Not at all." He tried his best to smile at her in a completely non-revealing manner but he feared he failed terribly in her eyes.

 

"Good, good. I'll just leave you two alone then."

 

"Sorry what?" Draco stared at her in incomprehension as he finally managed to get the butterflies in his stomach to calm the hell down.

 

"Bye dear," she smiled and waved with a flopping wrist before spinning around. "Hello Mr. Potter, lovely day isn't it? Best abandon the robes." She said in a singsong way before her willowy frame was swaying out of sight.

 

"Erm..." Potter mumbled awkwardly after her as he appeared in Draco's doorway, his neck craned as he stared after Draco's coworker - giving the blonde all of two seconds to adjust to the sight of him in his Auror uniform with the clasps of his robes undone so the fabric hung loose and open around him before he turned to face him. "Hi." He grinned, his hands shoved deep in his trousers pockets, and effectively bringing the butterflies back with vengeance.

 

"Duck." Draco croaked out just as Potter was about to step inside.

 

"What - oh, thanks." He eyed the shrunken doorframe and slipped inside, his palm flat on the wood as he pressed the door closed behind him. "So, you're, um, you're back then?"

 

"It would seem so." Draco watched with apprehension growing thick in his veins as Potter neared his desk, he hadn't had a chance to see him since he jumped down the well and all that had come after that. The memory of that day made the blush spread over his skin like a fanning flame and Draco found that words were simply refusing to form, leaving him staring at Potter looking far too good in his damn uniform as the memory accosted him once more.

 

Though really, if he was honest, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since it happened - something that was horrifically embarrassing considering he had had a team of Obliviators plying through his mind. He was pretty sure the lot of them knew far too many details concerning him and Potter now - one of the younger members of the team had even giggled at him at one point.

 

Draco didn't like to pinpoint what exactly it was about that day that wouldn't leave him alone, he simply tried to chalk it up to the fact that he had never had sex quite like that before.

 

It was hard to say just what exactly was different about it, he wasn't sure he could fully articulate it if anyone deemed it necessary to ask. It wasn't messy and awkward like it had been during his first time when he was barely sixteen and had fumbled his way through it with some girl in his year that he could only vaguely remember. It wasn't anywhere near the odd sort of freeing high he had experienced during his first time with another man when he was twenty and trying to figure himself out in the new world around him that was still reeling from the war's repercussions. It wasn't even like the thrill and heart pounding moment he had first found Potter on his knees with the man's hands sweating on his hips or even like that night he had finally slipped inside him for the first time.

 

Potter had promised to show him how much Draco affected him and the blonde found that watching Potter's slow strip tease and the heated kisses he had bestowed upon him as he straddled his lap more erotic than anything he had yet to witness. He found himself feeling unsure and less confident of himself with his heart beating strangely fast as Potter had maneuvered them, laying himself back on the couch and gingerly pulling Draco down atop him with a shy little smile. He felt like he was about to tip over the edge of something undefinable as Potter rubbed himself against Draco's stomach, whispering in his ear how much he wanted him, how much he craved him, how he needed to have him inside him. Then there was a pressure behind his eyes as Potter had captured his lips once more and pressed down with his ankles on Draco's back, angling up as Draco eased his way inside his self-prepared hole.

 

He still didn't know how to deal with Potter gasping out against his mouth as he came to rest fully inside him or how to categorize the way the man had whimpered his name.

 

He couldn't fully describe the emotions that had gripped him so completely he found it hard to breathe as he kissed Potter softly with the man's legs hooked over his hips and his arms tight around Draco's back that was scattered with goosebumps despite the fact that he was burning from within. He could vividly remember how he felt himself stretching, like a gigantic ball of pent up feelings were being dragged out to consume him as he rocked steadily forward - tasting Potter's soft moans on his tongue and the individual touch of each of Potter's fingers curling into his skin making the damn moister prick at his eyes again.

 

He was pretty sure men didn't cry during sex and he had been adamant that the tears wouldn't be so bold as to actually leak down his cheeks. He still didn't even know why he felt like crying anyway. Sure Potter's quiet words that he had spoken every so often made them well something fierce and yes the way he had been kissed and held as he moved slowly in and out of the man's body was something he had never experienced before. Then there were the moments Draco's eyes would flutter open to find Potter staring up at him with an emotion that Draco had always insisted he had imagined witnessing before. Not to mention the way Potter said his name. He moaned it throatily before craning his neck to lock their lips together once more like Potter was bent on making sure their mouths were never apart for more than a few seconds.

 

It was tender and slow - nothing like how they usually came together. And it wasn't until it was over, with Potter holding him close and kissing him softly that Draco had even begun to realize what had just happened. It was a slow realization, like the very idea of it was reluctant to form in Draco's mind, the notion puttering along at a snail’s pace as they had finally dressed and made their way back to the office (and consequently Weasley's damn knowing smile). It started catching at his emotions and thoughts in sparks of light as Potter lingered in the office at the end of the day so they could walk to the Apparation point together - an invitation to accompany him home stuck on Draco's tongue as Potter was called away to the Minister's office.

 

It struck him like a bolt of lightning as he laid in bed trying to fall asleep, making his eyes round and his breath catch. He had waited for the terror to come and yet it only seemed to liberate him, he felt like a chisel had been chipping away at his chest and it had just managed to break off the hard jagged exterior - exposing something within that he hadn't even been aware was there and making him come face to face with things he vowed not to.

 

He didn't want Potter confined to any fucking boxes. He didn't want to wonder any longer how much of Potter was his. He didn't want to share the man. And though he still felt splintered, caught between something he couldn't seem to get a handle on with the case, he wanted Potter to be sure of him - wanted Potter to know that he already held in his hands all that Draco knew how to give and that he would no doubt find a way to pry open the rest of it (which was rather terrifying and the most blatant reason he didn't want to think on his new revelation).

 

Now he just needed to figure out how to tell Potter, something he had absolutely no experience in - relationships were not typically his cup of tea. He tended to get in and out quickly, never sticking around long enough to see the day his companion would start to disdain him, cutting it loose before his linage could sour anything. Because he knew it would - it may not be a hideous snake and skull anymore but no one could pretend for long that they didn't know what the scar on his forearm was.

 

"Were they able to retrieve your memories?" Potter asked as he came around the desk, propping his hip against the wood.

 

Draco shook his head as he jolted back to the present. "No, they were unsuccessful."

 

"I'm sorry to hear that." Potter said sincerely as Draco turned his chair to face him fully, his hands itching to reach forward and touch - the strong curve of Potter wrist with his palm planted on the desk begging to be grasped. He loved Potter's hands, the lines that marred them telling story after story of his life, loved the strength they held, loved the way they touched him like Draco was something priceless.

 

"We knew the likely hood was slim." His limbs felt heavy as he contemplated the space between them, only a small gap but at the moment it seemed like miles - because there was nothing to hide the movement in. No argument, no beat of music, no drinks to ease the way, no danger, there was nothing but a fierce desire to kiss him once more.

 

"What's this?" Potter motioned to the phial.

 

"Last ditch effort." Draco eyed the foul potion once more, already knowing deep in his heart that it was useless, that drinking it down wouldn't bring to light anything. But he would do it anyway because he simply couldn't let any lead fall to the wayside no matter how small and insignificant.

 

"Will you take it now?"

 

"In a moment. Potter, I -" Draco sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck and the ache that throbbed there. "About the other day." Potter's smile faded into a barely noticeable frown, his lips set straight with the smallest downward curve in the right corner. "I'm not - what I mean to say is -" Draco rushed to finish, his heart pounding violently against his ribcage as he searched for the right words. "I wanted you to know that I - bugger." His hands clenched on the armrests as he bit into his tongue, his face flushed scarlet, his mouth as useless as an uneducated imbecile. But he had absolutely no clue how to say it, he only knew that he needed to.

 

Potter was silent, contemplating him with his index finger tapping gently on the desk. "Draco-"

 

"Close your eyes." He interrupted him, standing abruptly with confusion flickering through Potter's emerald eyes as Draco came to stand directly before him. "Please." He added softly as he reached forward and slipped his fingers over the top of Potter's on the wooden desktop, the muted but sharp inhale of Potter's breath pulling a smile from his lips.

 

Potter's back straightened as he sunk back against the desk till he was perched on its ledge and closed his bright eyes. It was the simplest testament of trust between them, Potter's eyesight taken willing from him as Draco pressed one step closer, sliding his hand around Potter's waist as his other one curled around Potter's fingers. He breathed in Potter's familiar scent, remembering how the man had admitted to wanting to wake up beside him every morning, the idea making his nerves flutter in both fright and anticipation.

 

He would never know how he had managed to win Potter, though he could guess that the Prophet would have more than their fair share of unsavory theories once their entanglement started to leak out. He imagined people would say that he had somehow ensnared their savior. That he had used dark magic on him to capture his heart. That he had tricked their beloved hero into his bed. He dipped his head and brushed his lips so very lightly over Potter's.

 

People might even start hexing him in the street more often.

 

Pulling back before he could get lost in Potter's taste and feel, he moved till he was sitting beside him on the desk, smiling to himself as he caught the other man quickly licking his bottom lip. His own eyes slipped closed as he situated himself, squeezing the hand he still held. He felt a little silly, two grown men sitting side by side on his desk with their eyes closed, but needs must and Draco needed the shroud of pretend invisibility. "Potter...I - I will never like the majority of your friends." He said quickly, Potter's corresponding chuckle vibrating down through their joined hands.

 

"I don't expect you to." He whispered, his thumb moving to caress the back of Draco's wrist.

 

"Quiet please." Draco admonished, knowing he needed the other man's silence if he was to get through with this. "I absolutely loath Ginevra and I doubt that will ever change. Granger will most likely always feel the need to analyze me and therefor I doubt I'll ever be able to really speak openly with her. I despise Ministry fundraisers and will be a poor date if you force me. I hog the covers. And not a little. You might have to have your own separate blanket but I may end up stealing that one too. Especially if it starts to smell like you. I love my job and sometimes work through the night and will get violently upset if you try to interrupt me needlessly. Pansy is completely mental and crass and horribly rude but I love her and won't tolerate poor treatment of her. On the other hand you can torment Blaise all you see fit, he can stand on his bloody own. I get tetchy if there isn't any coffee in the morning so best not drink the last of it and I have a slightly unhealthy chocolate addiction. I won't change that so don't ask. People sometimes still call me a Death Eater and hex me when my back is turned. It’s best to ignore it and I don't want to have to worry about you punching random people on the street because of it. I still own the Manor. I won't sell it but I don't expect you to ever set foot in it either. I am fiercely possessive and jealous and I won't tolerate any other hands on you. If you are mine then you are all mine."

 

"Draco-" Potter said softly as he took a pausing breath.

 

"I'm not finished." Draco muttered, his chest painfully tight and his palms starting to sweat. "I would be a horrible boyfriend and in truth have never really been one before. We'll most likely fight all the fucking time but seeing as that only seems to make me want to fuck you, well...that could either be a good or bad thing. Probably bad. Basically this is going to end in disaster but I...I don't care anymore because the thought of you with anyone else makes me ill and would probably result in murder. And I don't want to go to Azkaban, it's terribly rancid there..." He trailed off, his throat dry and his tongue sticky as all his words hung in the air around them, like a million little pins just waiting to drop.

 

It was horribly silent for much too long.

 

A gentle hand touched his cheek, fingers that were warm and steady as Potter let out a long breath. "Can I speak now?" He asked hesitantly and as Draco nodded his consent with his eyes still tightly closed he swore he could somehow feel Potter's answering smile just as much as he could feel Potter's gaze on his face. "So what you're saying is that you want to be with me? Exclusively?"

 

"Yes." Draco breathed out.

 

"You want to be my boyfriend?" Potter clarified.

 

"A ridiculous turn of phrase but yes, in essence."

 

"Would partner be better?" Potter asked, his lips caressing over the shell of Draco's ear and sending a shiver down his spine.

 

"Moderately." Draco conceded, giving into the pulse thrumming through him and turning his head until he found Potter's lips with his own, capturing them in a heated kiss as his hand curled sharply around the edge of the wood beneath them. "Do you agree then?"

 

The desk shifted and creaked as Potter scooted closer, his hands fisting in the front of Draco's black robes and using them to haul him forward. "I think I already made my position on that clear." He grinned, licking Draco's lips between kisses. "Though I might not be able to keep from punching anyone who hexes your back, I'm rather possessive myself you see."

 

"Oh?" He felt light as a feather as Potter's strong hands gripped him, the action sizzling with that apparent possessiveness, echoing Potter's words and making Draco spin into delirium. He cursed the need for air and their ability to still form words as all it was doing was severing his mouth from Potter's.

 

"Mhmm." Potter hummed with their tongues twined together. "You good with that?"

 

Draco nodded and then proceeded to snog Potter breathless in the middle of the day at the Ministry with the vile potion mere inches behind them and on the cusp of spilling all over the place on more than one occasion. It felt liberating, having the man so solid in his arms with his taste flooding his tongue and knowing that he didn't have to stop, that he didn't have to file the encounter away and pretend.

 

So when Potter muttered against his lips to call him Harry, Draco did. When Harry told him that he wanted him, Draco didn't even bother to ward the door before he was back in his chair with the dark haired Auror straddling his lap. When he felt a weight crushing his chest he didn't waste his time over-analyzing it, he just cupped the back of Harry's neck and kissed him once more, swallowing his gasp as the man's own weight lowered him onto Draco's prick. When Harry shuddered and whispered how perfect it felt Draco couldn't keep his tongue still - he told him things he shouldn't have, letting his heart bare on his sleeve, open and in place to be slaughtered. Yet he didn't care.

 

Sure it was most likely going to end in disaster.

 

Sure Draco would most likely end up with his heart broken into a million tiny little pieces.

 

But for now Potter was being his hero, leaping in without any regard to the future consequences it may hold and for once Draco found himself willingly following - because drowning in bliss with Potter for a moment was far better than living forever without it.

 

 

****

 

 

He had been right - the potion did taste like something had died in it and it did absolutely nothing except make him faint in the middle of his office and give him a foul taste in his mouth.

 

The only upside was Potter - Harry - was there and when Draco came back to a moment later it was to find himself cradled in the raven haired man's arms - a look of deep concern marring his handsome face. It also apparently gave Potter - damn it, Harry - an excuse to hold him much too tightly as he kissed him. Though perhaps they didn't need excuses for things like that anymore. Not that Draco knew exactly how having a relationship with a previous rival turned coworker turned secret lover turned partner was supposed to go.

 

But random kisses did seem likely enough to occur, it was Potter - oh fuck it, he didn't think it would ever get easy to call him Harry - after all. Sappy Gryffindor git, he was acting like something had actually happened to Draco instead of just a powerful punch of ineffective memory restoration potion. Not that he was planning on complaining because Merlin Potter's mouth was amazing - his hands somehow haven gotten tangled in the man's hair by their own volition as desire thrummed sharply through him.

 

"Oh Merlin's fucking balls."

 

Draco's vision swam as Potter pulled back abruptly, nearly dumping him from his lap - well not lap exactly, more like his knees but close enough - which for some completely odd reason made him feel like laughing which in turn made him wonder if perhaps the potion had been laced with more than he thought.

 

"Ron." Potter gasped as Draco jerked himself into a sitting position, wrinkling his nose at the slow movement of his limbs. Well wasn't that just great, the blasted potion was making his blood feel like damn sludge and in effect making him feel something akin to a sloth - it would be a miracle if he could make it to his feet without embarrassment.

 

"Rules Harry!" Weasley snapped, using one hand to shield his face like he was afraid they'd start ripping each other’s clothes off.

 

"Rules?" Draco inquired, brushing the hair form his forehead as he discreetly tried to make it lie in place instead of looking like a bad replica of Potter's. Though really that was foolhardy on several levels, firstly because he doubted there was any hope for it and secondly because judging from the scarlet color of his skin Weasley already had a pretty good idea of what they had been getting up to.

 

"We weren't in our office and you barged in!" Potter scoffed, picking himself up off the floor and offering a helping hand down to the blonde who eyed it disdainfully.

 

Yet in all honestly he wasn't altogether sure he could make it to his feet without the help so with a mild sneer he grasped the man's wrist and grumbled to himself as he was yanked to his feet. "What rules?" He repeated, knowing he was missing something. Like why Weasley wasn't so much as shocked to find them snogging as he was mad that Potter had apparently broken some previously per-agreed upon rules.

 

About him. And Potter. Together. Oh god, Potter really did tell his redhead everything it seemed. Pansy would be sickly jealous. 

 

"Erm." Potter muttered, shuffling his feet in a very guilty manner.

 

"Seriously mate, shag all you want, you two are way more tolerable when you do but I don't want to see it." Weasley peaked at them from between his fingers and after being apparently appeased with the distance between them and the fact that they were fully clothed, dropped his hand back to his side.

 

"When we do?" Draco repeated, appalled with the notion of Weasley being able to tell when they had been intimate. That was just humiliating.

 

Potter shot him a look that was straddling an odd line of exasperated and embarrassed before turning back fully towards Weasley. "Is there something you needed?" He asked tersely.

 

And Draco was just about to pipe in and demand Potter explain these previously unknown rules - and honestly how could their already be rules? They had only been made official an hour ago - when Weasley's reasoning for barging in left all three of them cold and staring at the other in a mix of emotions that felt like they were sure to trample from Draco's body and leave him a bloody mess on the floor.

 

Olivia, the girl in the hospital, was gone


	18. Chapter 18

The coffee more closely resembled dirty dishwater than anything else - looking pathetically weak in the squat white mug. Draco grimaced at it with his arms crossed over his chest, Potter's voice a drone in the back of his head. He didn't even really need to listen anymore to know what was being said - the exact same things that they had gone over at least a dozen times already. His hand clenched against his side as he slipped his eyes closed.

 

Olivia was gone.

 

A Healer had went to her room to check on her status (which hadn't changed since Draco had visited her in the hospital) only to find the room exactly the same but missing the body of one young comatose, perpetually drenched woman. There wasn't any sign of a struggle, no over turned equipment, the bed still made nice and neat except for the tiniest wrinkle in the upper corner.

 

And the disk.

 

Draco felt the vein in his temple throb as he opened his eyes to look over at the bed again - the black and green disk that had been fixed inside Olivia's mouth was lying innocently in the center of the mattress. Or at least they all assumed that it was the same disk but really for all they knew it could be a new one - placed there by the murderer. But that made as little sense as Olivia randomly waking, taking it out, and leaving without a word - like a ghost in the night. No one could even remember seeing anyone remotely resembling her wandering down the halls. She just up and vanished.

 

Yet that was simply impossible given the wards placed around the hospital.

 

It begged the question of why the murderer would return. Was he worried that Olivia would come to and spill his identity? Was he simply deranged enough to need the woman dead no matter what? But then he hadn't killed her and left her body to be found like usual - no all that was left was the bloody disk, like a cruel taunt that only seemed to be making Draco's eye twitch and stomach churn. Except that wasn't true, he reminded himself. He knew that despite the fact that Potter looked perfectly composed and professional that his wand hand was flexing over the length of his power, that he was as desperate as Draco to abandon the questioning and get his hands dirty.

 

Draco had never thought the day would come when Potter would be the one holding them back - the one to do the cautious protocol while Draco wanted to simply leap.

 

He glanced up and over at Potter and Weasley - both looking far too worn and tired - in the middle of yet another round of questioning with yet another Healer. They would be here all night at this rate and if Draco's hunch was correct nowhere nearer finding out what had happened. He sighed and took a step closer to the bed. Potter had ordered him not to touch it and after allowing him a few brief preliminary spells (which yielded nothing) had told him to let it be for the time being until they had a better handle on the situation. But that had been hours ago and Draco felt like there was a burning itch running up his leg every time he looked at it, a bucket of ice water rushing down his spine each time he looked away.

 

"All exits were locked or warded?" Potter asked and Draco mentally answered him before the Healer could.

 

"No unusual visitors logged in?" Weasley added his required question to check off their list.

 

Useless. This was all useless. It was tedium and coughing smoke, the questions only pushing everything further away from them. Draco only knew three things for certain. One, Olivia was in great danger. Two, the disk was calling to him. And three, they were wasting time.

 

So before he could change his mind and let the list of possible ramifications wash over him, Draco scooped up the disk, dropped it into the dirty water parading as coffee, and heard the soft trickle of water flood his ears moments before one long tentacle reached out to his outstretched hand and tugged him under.

 

It was different this time. The squeezing was there, the pain in this head and the cold through his blood still present, but time didn't feel eclipsed and off balance like the memories usually did - instead he felt compressed, like squeezing through a tight tube. In fact as Draco found himself standing on the shore of a bright, crystal blue lake he had the feeling that he wasn't in a memory at all. He blinked in the blinding sunlight and peered around himself, the sand beneath his feet wet and squishy. He recognized the body of water and the surrounding hills, the scent of lavender filling his nostrils as a breeze blew around him - lifting his hair and robes. It hadn't been that long ago that he had stood in this exact spot, holding the first of the disks and hoping to god that his instinct was leading him in the right direction. He took a tentative step and his feet sunk deep into the sand, water seeping into the cuff of his trousers.

 

With a deep frown he crouched down and let his fingers dip into the lake, its cool water a very real reality. Firmly grasping his wand with his other hand, Draco peered up through his fringe and all around him as his brain tried to piece it all together. This wasn't a memory at all, it wasn't even a vision, it was real - he was here, now, at the lake. Alone. The disk had been turned into a portkey and seeing as it hadn't done a single thing when Potter had probed it or when Draco had conducted his beginning investigation it must have been placed on the bed especially for him. Because who else would think to dump it in water, who else would willing grasp it's creepy tentacles?

 

His first gut reaction was to leave - as fast as he possibly could because this smelled strongly like a trap. He should think of the hospital and spin, he should get Potter and a plethora of his Auror comrades and come back to the lake with them all in tow.

 

"Draco."

 

He spun around at the soft whisper of his name only to find a blank landscape - beautiful but devoid of human life beyond himself. But he recognized that voice, it felt entwined with his very soul these days. "Astoria?" He called, his voice carrying on the wind and echoing around the hills. "Where are you?" He strained his ears and eyes, squinting in the blinding sunlight, his feet moving him forward in a sharp curve around the water’s edge as silence engulfed him - ringing in his head. "Astoria!" He shouted, feeling his pulse pick up and an urgency grip him. She was here, he knew she was, he could feel her.

 

He ran without direction, something pulling him forward and guiding his steps, the smallest whisper in his head quickening his movements with each inch gained. He felt like he was getting closer as he rounded a bend, busting through a tangle of bushes before slipping on an algae incrusted rock. He tumbled down a steep incline, bashing his knee on the stone and feeling blood seep into the fabric of his trousers. But he hardly noticed the pain or the way his mind had gone fuzzy as the air shifted and a tingle of magic washed over him. He blinked as his vision swam then cleared, stumbling to his feet and sliding to a stop before the opening to what looked to be a long, dark tunnel - a million little spiders crawling down his spine at the sight of its gaping mouth.

 

He sucked in a breath as he stared into the black, his fingers flexing over his wand. With a mutter a soft blue light was zipping into the tunnel, casting the smooth dank walls in gray tinged light before it disappeared as the tunnel curved sharply downwards. He felt frozen in that moment, vividly remembering the memory of Astoria running desperately from those very depths. He felt as if he could still hear it now, the thump thump thump of her feet on the stone and the rasp of her breath. Fear gripped him tightly, squeezing his lungs with sharp claws, making him feel like a torn, confused teenager amidst an insane war once more.

 

"Get Potter." He whispered the directions to himself after swallowing around a lump. He wasn't the type to go running face first into unknown danger, he wasn't the one who burst in with wand held high. He wasn't the damn hero. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, taking a small step backwards.

 

"Draco." Astoria's voice drifted up from the darkness to him, her voice breaking in what sounded like agony and before he knew it Draco was rushing forward - the borrowed memory of delivering the news of her capture by Death Eaters so many years ago making his feet fly faster than ever before. He had no idea what had transpired that night and it seemed likely he never would but he was determined to right a wrong that was too fuzzy to see but that threatened to break his heart anyway.

 

He ran and ran and ran, his steps ringing loudly all around him, the light from his wand barely managing to cast shadows on the curved walls encasing him. The air grew thicker as the tunnel curved and one misplaced step later and his feet were flying out from under him - his head connecting solidly against the hard stone floor, his wand clanking down the slope and out of reach as his skull throbbed and black dots encompassed his vision. He groaned and rolled to his knees, his forehead pressing down into the slick stone as he waited for the pain to subside.

 

A step echoed before him.

 

Glancing sharply up, Draco huffed out a pained breath, confusion picking its way through his already fretted mind as his gaze landed on the much too thin figure of Olivia still dressed in the white hospital gown, the blue tinge of her skin still startling clear. "Olivia?" He gasped, struggling to his feet and feeling himself waver on the spot - his hand coming away from the back of his head streaked in sticky red. 

 

"You came." She said, her voice horse and barely above a whisper but startling familiar all the same.

 

Cold seeped into him, making his back straighten as her voice pierced him, his eyes widening. The fear that had held him at the mouth of the tunnel seized him completely, his gaze sliding sideways and over the woman's shoulder to the darkness beyond in search of his fallen wand and back again. Her large green eyes never wavered from his face, the orbs bright and covered with a thin sheen of unshed tears.

 

"We should leave." He said as calmly as he could, taking a careful step forward.

 

The woman slid fluidly into his path, blocking his escape. "It's not safe." She said, her voice sending chills back down his spine.

 

"We can help you, you don't need to be afraid." He told her, searching the ground once more for his wand, cursing inwardly as he finally located it several paces down - out of easy reach. He quickly started formulating a plan in his mind, the idea of overtaking her physically leaving a sour taste in his mouth but it seemed his only option at the moment. "I'll keep you safe."

 

She nodded with a broken little smile, a single tear leaking down her pale cheek. "You will, won't you?"

 

They both moved in the next second, Draco's arms nearly around her before something hard and sharp was connecting with his skull - making him stumble and his feet nearly slip out from under him again before the instrument was connecting solidly once more against the back of his head. All colors seeped away from him, Olivia's long blond hair morphing into a single bouncing blob as he fell and struggled to stay awake, his hand groping at the wall.

 

Another hit was all it took to send him careening into the black.

 

 

****

 

 

He dreamed of Potter - of lying on soft grass with the man beneath him, a meadow filled with delicate yellow flowers and lazy clouds, Potter's laugh tinkling like some spell binding sound that held Draco captive. There was nothing else but Potter's smile, the touch of his fingers on the back of Draco's neck, and the gentle sound of his joy making his spirit soar. He couldn't recall the tribulation that he knew the day must have held, he couldn't picture the mess of things they were going to have to walk back into.

 

In that moment it was him and Potter and the meadow. He smiled as he closed his eyes and kissed the other man - small and chaste, his platinum locks getting pushed back from his face as Harry combed his fingers through them. "I love you." Draco whispered against his lips.

 

And as if his words had beckoned them, the sky rolled with dark gray clouds, the feeling of divine joy and contentment falling away like rocks down a tumbling cliff. He opened his eyes and Harry of years past glared up at him - his dull green eyes etched with barely concealed agony, his hand dropping from Draco's head covered in dirt from the graves he had just filled over his fallen loved ones. Potter's jaw clenched visibly, the purple under his eyes standing stark and clear against his ashen complexion.

 

"Harry-" He started, feeling like his heart had been put in a mortal and ground to bits of bloody sinew and muscle from just the hardness of his face - the man's body suddenly still and stiff as stone beneath him.

 

"Did you think you could hide her forever?" Potter hissed, his voice pure loathing and venom, using Draco's confused state to roll him quickly until Potter sat astride him. "Did you think we wouldn't find out? Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

 

"I - who?"

 

"You are a disgusting piece of shit Malfoy." He sneered and as he did Draco felt like bits of his body were cracking, running in spidery splinters over him, his very being dissolving into the earth beneath him.

 

"H-harr -" He choked on his own collapsing lungs, Potter's hand pressing down on his chest until all air was gone with no ability to ever return.

 

He felt himself sinking into a void unknown, his heart torn into complete anguish as Potter's face twisted into something ugly and foreign, the blurry vision of Astoria - still young and clad in dust eaten Hogwarts robes - appearing over his shoulder to watch with a face as blank as smooth wax as he turned to ash beneath them.

 

 

****

 

 

Draco's eyes sprang open as he struggled to breathe, the dream clinging to him as he shook and tried to dispel the look that had morphed Potter's face into something of nightmares. His hand gripped his chest over his heart - trying to lessen the ache that still throbbed there, his entire body shaking as he dragged in one painful breath after another.

 

"Just a dream" He told himself, much like he used to for years after the war when nightmares were part of his nightly routine. "Just a...fuck." He glanced up and with the glaring reality of where he was came the return of his throbbing knee and head in full force - emitting from a large lump crusted with dried blood on the back of his head.

 

He was underground still - that much he could tell from his slumped position against the smoothly cut stone wall - but who knew how far down the tunnel he had gone and if he was anywhere near the lake anymore. Flickering torch light lit the small space he was confined to that looked to be no bigger than five paces by five paces. Three smooth walls and one barring him off from the rest of the bare room with thick bars that looked to be carved from the same stone as the rest of his prison - trapping him like great rows of teeth. There was nothing inside his little cell and beyond it on the other side of the bars was a barren floor leading to a single wooden door.

 

Tucking his legs beneath him, he rose unsteadily to his feet, glancing up high on the walls with a small hope for a window to be fixed there but there was none - just more stone that went up and up before curving in on itself. His hand gripped one of the sturdy bars as he came to rest his full weight on his feet.

 

Don't panic, he repeated over in his head but it was doing little to help the fear overtaking him or to soften the way his lungs were constricting as claustrophobia seemed to press in all around him. He hated small spaces and knew that if he was left here much longer that the walls would start to move in on him like a living thing. He shook his fear back and forced himself to think. Firstly, he needed to go over his surroundings inch by inch to find a potential weakness - if there was any to be found. So with fingers that wanted to tremble, he slowly set himself to his task, refusing to let his mind dwell on Olivia and the fact that she was apparently no innocent as he worked. He meticulously searched every possible inch of wall and floor he could reach - running his fingers studiously over every nick of stone and around every single bar that held him from freedom.

 

And then he did it again.

 

And again.

 

He had no idea how long he had been there when he finally collapsed back to the floor, the pads of his fingers aching and over sensitive after probing along his cell for so long - his mind spinning into over activity, making it impossible to latch onto any one thought. Which would do him absolutely no good because his warden was sure to return - and probably sooner rather than later - and Draco felt like he was sure to dissolve into a puddle of hyperventilation if she did while he was so worked up.

 

Shutting his eyes and forcing his limbs perfectly still he slowed his mind and plucked out the most important details.

 

Olivia had captured him. She had most likely planted the disk at the hospital to transport him to the lake. She had somehow led him to the cave and drew him in. And yet still she looked...lost, confused, and desperate even when she had confronted him - at least she did before bludgeoning him.

 

He thought of how the Healers were astounded that she was withstanding all the magic they were using on her, a clear red flag that she had been more than she seemed. But he hadn't picked up on that - none of them had. And then there was the marking, the duplication of the disk on the inside of her wrist. What did that mean? Was it controlling her somehow? Was she honestly a poor muggle victim that the murderer was channeling his power through somehow?

 

Was that even possible?

 

And her voice...she had sounded just like Astoria but rawer.

 

His head fell forward into his hands as he mentally back pedaled over the last few weeks. The two woman had to be connected in some way, he just couldn't...

 

"It gets better."

 

Draco's head shot up at the softly uttered words to find Olivia sitting against the same wall as him on the other side of the bars, her knees drawn up into her chest with her arms wrapped snugly around them. He hadn't even heard her come in.

 

"What do you want?" He asked as she shot him a small, faltering smile.

 

"That's a story to be sure." She said, her cheek resting on her knee as she studied him. "But I can't tell you."

 

"Why is that?" He tried to keep the tightness out of his voice, tried to keep his tone as soft as he possibly could because the woman before him looked horribly fragile, like if he spoke a little too roughly that she'd dissolve into tears and waste completely away. And he needed her talking, needed her trust if there was any chance to puzzle everything out and make it out of this.

 

"He won't let me." Her voice quivered as she whispered her reply.

 

"Who won't?" Draco lowered his voice to match her just like he had seen Potter do when questioning a distraught victim.

 

"My husband." She bit into her pale bottom lip and turned her face halfway into her knee.

 

Draco racked his brain for any mention of Olivia's husband, vaguely remembering Weasley and Potter talking about a muggle boyfriend that the police had taken away for questioning. But his name wasn't forthcoming, his face never emerging from the depths of his memory except for... "The redhead?"

 

Olivia peaked up at him. "Jack? Sweet lad's Olivia's." Her dainty hand swung down over her bare foot, the blue lined marking on her wrist flashing at him for a brief second, her long blonde hair falling like a curtain over her features as she buried her face between her knees again.

 

"But you're..." He trailed off and swallowed thickly, his pulse thumping to the time of his whirling thoughts. "Who are you then?" He asked instead of challenging her odd statement straight out - an idea that seemed too surreal to possibly be true pricking him.

 

"You know that." She murmured, her voice muffled and distant.

 

"Do I?"

 

She nodded but still didn't look up, her fingers playing idly with her toes - the swirling round mark turned fully to him now and Draco felt cold as he stared at it. There was no denying that she was the latest almost-victim in the string of murders, he himself had read report after report detailing her daily life as a coffee barista in a little cafe down the street from where she lived. Read all about the little tidbits of her life and tracked her lack of progression in her suspended state in the hospital. She was Olivia. Of that he was sure but she also seemed...confused, like someone being strung along the edge of the Imperius curse. 

 

"Are you Olivia?" He asked carefully.

 

"Sometimes."

 

Draco was sure his heart was going to pound right out of his chest at her quiet reply. "Are you...are you now?" She shook her head. "Can you tell me your name then?" He tried to sound light and curious, scooting closer to the bars and grasping them in one hand, sure he already knew the answer but needing to hear it from her own lips - hoping to god that she would contradict what his mind had drawn as the only conclusion.

 

"Daphne always said you didn't notice me."

 

He had years of Malfoy breeding to thank for his carefully controlled reaction - nothing visible flicking across his face as her declaration fell in the damp air. Outwardly the only movement for her to pick up was the slight tip of his chin, inwardly he felt like having a nervous breakdown as he tried to place it all in an orderly fashion in his head. But nothing about this situation was orderly and he doubted he could find a label for it beyond pure insanity.

 

He took a careful moment to study her - the willowy frame, the blonde hair that looked like it could have been thick and lustrous in day’s bygone, the green eyes that while bright would never hold a candle to Potter's. He looked deeper and noticed the spider web of lines on the corner of her eyes, the deep furrow that marred her forehead whenever she frowned just a little, and the lips that looked like she had a bad habit of scrapping her teeth harshly over them day and night, night and day. Feet that looked like she never wore shoes, the toenails embedded with dirt.

 

"Astoria?" He asked carefully as he placed the woman before him with the mental image he had of Astoria from the memory Pansy had given them. They looked...similar. He could hardly believe the lovely young woman from Hogwarts was the same as the one next to him now but still...they could be. Astoria could have grown into Olivia if her life had been a hard one, full of horrors - it could be her if she had done small little things to shift her appearance. Perhaps with the goal to run away from something. From someone. That would explain some of the changes and the muggle life and boyfriend.

 

Astoria smiled at him like a young girl getting her crush to notice her for the first time, the expression making Draco's stomach sink. "You do remember me then."

 

With Astoria sitting bodily before him Draco felt as if a small crack had formed in the damn holding his memory of her back - allowing him to conjure her from the deepest recesses he hadn't realized had been missing until recently. It was distant still but there, her image an echo on the edge of his subconscious. He faintly remembered her being quiet and composed, sure footedly taking the high ground in a house of snakes was not an easy accomplishment yet she had somehow managed to do just that. But mostly he remembered her off in the shadows, always two steps behind his group of friends, always ready with a wide smile whenever his eyes did slide indifferently over her.

 

"Of course I do." Draco answered softly, knowing he needed to tread very carefully. She had obviously gone a bit mental, given the duel personalities and the fact that she alternately talked about him saving her and then had bashed him over the head with a rock before imprisoning him. "You went missing." He stated, clearly, matter of factually.

 

She nodded, a tremor racing up her limbs for a brief moment. "Yes."

 

"What happened?" He pushed, his voice a whisper.

 

"No, no!" She shut her eyes and started shaking her head, back and forth, back and forth, her hands gripping her scalp harshly. She started rocking to and fro and Draco felt his fear melt away into pure heartbreak. A girl, she had only been a girl, when she had been taken and the knowledge that whatever she went through had turned her into this making him physically ill.

 

And she had been clinging to his memory probably from the beginning - waiting for him to swoop in and rescue her. A childish fantasy her one grip on sanity it seemed.

 

"What can I do?" He asked and oddly enough when she stood and pointed his own wand at him he didn't flinch or try to escape it, he simply held her eye and thought maybe, just maybe, this would be how he could atone for not only being a part of her capture but for Theo's murder as well.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry felt rooted to the spot, his heart stuttering in his chest as he stared at the spot where Draco had stood not a second ago. Nothing was there now - just empty air, the coffee mug still sizzling with the magic the disk had held. He felt sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, that the next time he blinked the impassioned blonde would be scowling at the bed once more. Because he couldn't...he couldn't be gone.

 

"Ron." He croaked when his vision refused to bring the dark artifacts Analyst back to life before him, his breath growing shallow.

 

"Yeah?" His partner turned towards him, cocking his head in question as the Healer they were questioning was cut off mid-sentence.

 

Words felt far too heavy to possibly make it past his throat and off his tongue so Harry merely lifted a hand and pointed, everything feeling like wading through sludge as sticky and hot as tar.

 

"Did Malfoy leave?" Ron asked after following his wavering finger.

 

"No...yes...he was just there and then he....oh god." It all slammed forward into his chest in one very real and solid moment, time picking back up and making him jerk forward until he was grasping the coffee mug and peering into its brown tinged depths. The disk was gone, a thick black residue clouding at the bottom.

 

The bloody bastard couldn't wait, he just had to jump before they knew it was safe, he just had to...Harry's hands shook as his mind spun, the mug clanking back down onto the table as he squeezed his eyes shut. A viscous murderer had set their sights on the blonde long ago and now they had their claws in him - the maniac had managed to draw him away from protection and god anything could be happening to him right that very second. He could...Harry's stomach clenched and he pushed it to the back of his mind.

 

He wouldn't go down that road. He would get Draco back, he would not become the next victim in the string of ruthless murders. He would not be drudging his body up next.

 

"What happened?"

 

"The disk was turned into a portkey." He explained at Ron's softly voiced question after the man had very nearly pushed the Healer out the door and slammed it shut behind her. "It was turned into a portkey and the idiot activated it and now he's..." His hand reached up to finger the purple patch just under his jawline as had become habit as of late whenever his nerves overtook him - his short nail pressing into the blooming bruise that Draco had sucked into being.

 

"You're sure?" Ron asked tentatively, staring down into the mug with unease.

 

"Do you see him?" Harry snapped. "God Ron that twisted fuck has him and we have no idea where he is! He's just gone...fucking hell I don't know...I..."

 

"We don't know anything for sure Harry." The red head interrupted what was quickly becoming an unhinged rant as Harry felt his panic rise along with his blood pressure, fear the likes of which he hadn't felt in years rolling through him.

 

"Right, because I'm sure it just whisked him away to some luxury spa!"

 

"No but Malfoy messes with this kind of stuff for a living Harry, he's not going to be caught completely off guard." He clasped a hand on Harry's shoulder, the dark haired man turning towards him and grasping onto his fingers like they were a lifeline.

 

He shook his head. "He's not in his right mind, this case...it's screwing with his head." He gasped, trying to remember if fear usually hurt this much. "I can't lose him Ron." Not now, not when things were finally starting to go so well after over a year of dancing around each other.

 

"You're not going to. Now remember what Monie says, deep breaths yeah?"

 

That brought an unexpected snort from him, the sound rattling around his head and threatening to turn into a hysterical sob. "She says to stop peddling my arse to someone who doesn't appreciate me."

 

"The other thing." Ron's free hand came up to grasp Harry's other shoulder so he was holding him in a sold grip - effectively stopping him from continuing to sway before he could even realize that he was.

 

"Gather facts. Formulate a plan. Then go batty." Harry recited, the words somehow forcing some sort of order into his mind and making his thumping heart slow just a fraction - but it was enough for the moment.

 

Ron nodded. "So what's the facts?"

 

Harry blinked and ticked his mind back to the second he looked up to see Draco - blonde hair mussed from his fingers, usually immaculate shirt rumpled from Harry's hands, and gray eyes stirring with a storm - releasing his clenched fist over the edge of the coffee mug. The disk splashed, Draco's eyes dilated, the tentacle reached out, and then he was gone. Like a snap of the fingers, his long graceful frame there one second and vanished the next. "Olivia is impossibly gone and now Draco's missing due to a per-meditated planting of a portkey. Whoever did it knew Draco would be the one to activate it."

 

"Fair chance it's the murderer." Ron added in a tone he'd cultivated over the years working as Auror - somehow allowing him to state perfectly horrid facts in a manner that was purely factual and kept his audience an arms berth away from giving into hysteria.

 

Harry swallowed against the rock in his throat as he nodded. "He was armed with his wand."

 

"It's likely whoever it is doesn't want Malfoy dead."

 

Tears pricked at Harry's eyes as he nodded vigorously to drive them away, crying would do no one any good. "His location is unknown, he..." his knees buckled as the wave of terror rose back over him. “Bloody fuck Ron, I need him back, I...I love him and I haven't...I haven't even told him. I need to tell him."

 

"We will." Ron cracked a small forlorn smile as his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Plus I'm pretty sure he knows."

 

"Doubt it, he's a bloody stubborn git you know." He sagged forward and allowed himself five seconds of complete panic, let is swarm through him, making his stomach churn, and his chest ache, and his head split - allowed himself five seconds of worse case scenarios before forcing it all away and gathering himself up again. He needed to be strong, he wouldn't be any help to Draco otherwise. He wouldn't be burying Draco, he refused. He would be holding him again soon, he would be admitting his love, he would be strong arming the emotionally repressed man into not running away in fright right afterwards.

 

"You're telling me." Ron mused, causing Harry to blush despite the dire circumstances they found themselves in. Ron had been shockingly supportive of his feelings for the former Slytherin since they had started to stir so very long ago now. "There's no hint of where he might have been taken? You can't think of anything that might point in the right direction?"

 

Harry dragged a hand through his hair as he racked his brain. "No, I don't think...wait." It hit him like a hurricane, his eyes rounding behind his glasses and hope lighting in his otherwise dismal heart. "We need to get back to the Ministry." Harry's lips set into a stern line as he stepped back and strode quickly towards the door.

 

"Why?" Ron called after him, two steps behind.

 

"Because the he's still wearing my Apparation bracelet." Harry heard his pulse in his ears as he ran into the hospitals Apparation room and spun. He had done as Hermione was always admonishing him to do when emotionally tangled in a case - he had gathered facts, he had formulated the beginnings of a plan, and now...now he could go batty as she put it.

 

And the bastard who had took Draco from him better start praying for his mercy.

 

 

****

 

 

Bureaucracy had never frustrated Harry more. Draco's, a fellow Ministry employees, life was hanging in the balance and still they made him fill out forms in triplicate and spend nearly an hour running back and forth between departments. He had a near breakdown where he started screaming at the sour faced secretary he was forced to deal with and came so close to actually punching a Wizengamot member who had the audacity to sneer Malfoy's name like it was a deadly thing and hint that maybe it was the man's long coming justice.

 

In the end it was Ron who acquired the right clearance, who assigned a new batch of Auror's to finish up at the hospital, who just barely managed to catch his fist before it could connect across the man's face, and who had shoved him into a chair where Harry preceded to gnaw on his nails till there was nothing left of them except jagged pink tinged edges. By the time Ron returned with the thick cuffed bracelet that would act as a twin to the one on Draco's wrist and hopefully lead them to him, Harry felt like he was about to erupt.

 

It was ironic to think that over the last year whenever he had gotten anywhere close to feeling like this he would seek Draco out, either to snap at him, start pointless arguments, or just find an excuse to touch his smooth porcelain skin. He just needed the cool tone of the Analyst and god did he need it more than anything now.

 

"Ready?" Ron asked as Harry stood and secured the cuff on his wrist, his fingers wrapping tightly around it as he muttered the activation code. It hummed softly against his skin and Harry felt every hair on his body stand up as he stared down at it. "Let's go get your hunky man back."

 

Harry let out a gasp of a laugh, taking comfort in the lopsided smile his friend shot him. "You're such an idiot." He muttered as Ron latched onto his other arm.

 

"So says the man buggering the former Ferret."

 

And because it was either snap completely and send a hex at the Wizengamot member who had the nerve to round the corner again just then, give into his overwhelming fear, or take a moment reprieve in Ron's teasing tone, Harry turned a grin on him. "He buggers me." He winked and then as Ron let out a disgusted, over exaggerated gag, Harry spun them away.

 

The next few seconds were even more disorienting than usual while Apparating - feeling like something was physically trying to tug them towards a certain point and repel them at the same time. It seemed an eternity before they finally found their feet on damp sand with the sun setting low over the hills, the cuff vibrating fiercely on his wrist before going still, Harry blinked in the low light and over the sparkling blue lake.

 

"Hell." He murmured as he glanced all around them, recognizing where they were with dread.

 

"This where Thornbee died?" Ron asked quietly as Harry took a careful step forward, glancing down at this feet and hoping to see Draco's footprints marked out before him. But there was nothing - just blank sand stretching as far as he could see.

 

He nodded, remembering the first murder very clearly, the feeling of darkness that hung over the lake and the surrounding area just as clear now as it had been that day they had found the former Death Eater's body. No one at the Ministry had cared much when Jenner Thornbee had been found dead, his head of department was barely interested in even investigating. But even then there had been something nagging Harry about it and he had brought the disk to Draco despite the barely veiled instructions to not waste his time on such scum. Now, five murders and months later, Harry couldn't help but wonder if everything would have turned out like this if he had just let it lie - if he would have brushed it under the rug like everyone wanted him to. Would he still be trying to track Draco down if he had let another Auror take the next murder and use Cobble or Luckwood as their Analysis?

 

Yes.

 

He couldn't say how he knew that for sure but he had a horrible feeling that things would have unfolded in much the same matter either way. The murderer wanted Draco - those memories were tailored for him - that fact keeping him awake more nights then he could even count. But whoever it was made one gigantic mistake in not disabling him before snatching the blonde right out from under his nose.

 

He briefly caught the silvery image of a Jack Russel Terrier rushing away from the tip of Ron's wand and Harry was grateful that one of them at least was taking precautions. He narrowed his eyes and lifted his wand, muttering under his breath as he magically probed the surrounding area, looking for any hint of a magical signature or anything that stood out as off. Nothing turned up and holding his breath in his chest he walked forward and cast again, visually scanning the area as well as Ron walked in the opposite direction with his own wand held out. It was slow going and he had made it halfway around the large lake without so much as a shimmer of colliding magic or a speck of anything to follow. His hand clenched so tight on his wand as his head throbbed against his skull. But he wouldn't give up because despite the outward appearance that there was nothing there Harry knew Draco was nearby - he had to be.

 

You're looking at it wrong.

 

The voice speaking so softly in his head sounded just like Draco, making Harry's heart clench at the sound of the clear drawl with a hint of haughtiness on the downward lilt - his feet stopping dead. He closed his eyes and thought back to all the times he had brought the man out on assignment with him, pictured him crouched over a strange object that refused to conform to the natural order of things. He saw Draco's long slim hands hovering in place, never dipping lower, never moving closer until he had found what he was seeking out. He remembered the way the man used the elements of the Earth around them to seek deeper, to pull out answers that seemed all too allusive. Harry couldn't even pretend that he understood the way Draco worked his magic, he couldn't even fathom how the blonde did half the things he accomplished.

 

He fingered the cuff on his wrist and took a steadying breath. He and a team of Auror's had been over every inch of the area on more than one occasion only to come up empty handed. There was nothing outwardly unusual about the lake.

 

So stop looking at the fucking scenery Potter, doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results is the bloody definition of insanity you git.

 

He needed to stop looking for magic in the surrounding area. He needed...he needed to look for...

 

Linking factors Potter, all species have specific ones and the strongest is always in the -

 

"Blood." Harry finished the blonde's directions. He didn't understand it but he had heard Draco talk often enough of properties and signature factors and the power of the essence of magical beings. It was a shot anyway. So without further stalling, Harry used his wand to prick his finger, he then wrapped the beginnings of a trace around it, praying to god that is would work as he sent the spell flying away from him. It spread out over the sand and rock and water, traveling further and further away from him until it fell down a slope and Harry saw the faintest red glow emitting from just over the jutting rock.

 

The fear was back in full force as Harry stared at the red tinge in the air, possibilities of what he would find crowding for dominance in his thoughts. He sent a quick signal to call Ron back over to him but found he couldn't follow protocol and wait for even a fragment of a second longer - his feet flying over the uneven ground as he ran towards the haze that may or may not shatter his heart. He slashed through bushes and his feet skidded down the slick rock, his magic swelling and whirling inside him in a way that always had Draco slanting his eyes to him and side-stepping away - muttering about keeping "a leash on your damn magic, you plebian," usually moments before Harry caused what Draco and Ron liked to refer to as an explosion.

 

He dropped to a crouch as his eyes landed on the source of the red glow - a darkening trail of crimson in small smeared droplets. But that was it, nothing substantial, barley enough to even notice and could have only come from a small gash. His muscles felt constricted with the grating feeling of grinding flint threatening his grip on himself, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses he let out a long shuttering breath - both overwhelmingly grateful that there was so little blood and frantic that he seemed to be at another dead end. Glancing up, he paused in his crouch as his gaze landed on what seemed to be a sheen of a magical barrier in front of him that had never been there before.

 

Or perhaps you had simply been too much of a simpleton to notice it because it doesn't conform to what you know, Draco's voice in his head nagged at him in a way that he used to find irritating, then enduring when the man snipped in his ear, but now just made him all that more unhinged. New or old it didn't matter because it was there, thick as a waterfall, strong as a werewolf, and running the length of a rounded opening that he couldn't see but could feel - the trace for wizards blood that he had sent out pulsing from behind it, stronger than the one emitting at his feet.

 

"Is...is something there?" Ron appeared behind him, slightly out of breath and a deep furrow marring his brow.

 

Harry nodded. "Draco's in there." He said, knowing the full truth of his statement as it left his lips, almost like he could feel the blonde behind it, just out of reach, waiting for him. Let him be alright.

 

"Can you get through it?" His partner asked and instead of answering Harry surged forward, pressing his palms over what felt like a slimy metal surface, nearly invisible to the eye but as real and impenetrable as any stone wall braced up by magic. He gritted his teeth and pushed, snapped his hands back when it warmed to his touch but refused to give and started casting, using any and every spell he could think of to get through it - even some that the Ministry would frown rather deeply upon.

 

Stop it you imbecile, you know what that barrier is, you know what has to be done.

 

Harry gritted his teeth against the voice, refusing to believe it and pushing it away, determined that it was wrong - that it simply couldn't be.

 

By the time he had exhausted his store of knowledge in breaking through barriers of the magical sort he felt worn completely thin and a little like he was going to lose his mind, his magic bouncing off the wall before him and making Ron curse and duck on more than several occasions. Then with a frustrated growl, his eyes squeezed closed and he felt a strong, anguished pulse rush out of him, colliding with the surface before him and heating the air around them. It grew and sizzled and he vaguely heard Ron shouting something at him and knew that if Draco had been there that he would have intuitively sent the man flying into the lake to shield him from the torment that was admitting from him.

 

The reminder that there was no Slytherin to come sputtering from the water moments later was like a physical blow that had him clutching his stomach as he fell to his knees, his magic echoing in his ears tangibly as his explosion reached its highest point and flowed back out - leaving him drained and panting on the ground, tears leaking from his stinging eyes, the barrier still untouched.

 

"Get a grip." He ordered himself, the stone rough and damp against his hands, unable to recall a time he had been so completely out of control of his emotions and his magic.

 

"You know it was Ginny who told me first."

 

Harry blinked through the moister in his eyes and glanced up to find Ron standing beside him, staring straight ahead at the barrier with a thoughtful look, his red mane glowing in the setting sun like a ring of fire. "What?" He croaked, uncertain if he had missed something and wanting to tell Ron to step back, to keep from touching it. It called to your blood Potter, stop playing Savoir and admit it.

 

"About you. She came over crying because her boyfriend kept talking in his sleep."

 

"I...I did?" Harry muttered, unsure what else to say. He had no idea where Ron was going with this and his magic was still spiking in an almost painful way inside him, his subconscious that apparently wanted to torment him further nagging at him in Draco's drawling voice.

 

Ron nodded, his hand lifting to rest lightly against the invisible wall. "I told her it couldn't possibly be what she thought, that there wasn't any way that you could be dreaming about Malfoy in that way. I told her you loved her and sent her back. But it stuck in my mind, you know? Must be a big brother thing because I found myself watching you two more carefully even as I convinced myself that what I was seeing wasn't really happening. I'm not all together dense you know Harry, I picked up on the way you stared off after him, on the blush that you used to only get around Gin when you two first started going together. But I kept lying to her, kept telling her you'd get over it, even though I knew..." he trailed off, his fingers running over the barrier before letting a small smile tug at his lips. "I knew you weren't going to ever get over it. I knew it before you finally broke it off with her, I knew it before you started your rather embarrassingly blatant flirting that only seemed to make Malfoy scowl at you. You're a hopeless romantic Harry, always have been, and a sucker for pain it seems as well."

 

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry didn't know what to think of Ron's speech, the thought that he and Ginny had known about all those months of erotic dreams of the blonde making his insides heat even as his heart still pounded violently in his chest. But he couldn't figure out why Ron was revealing it to him, especially now - with Harry feeling very much like he was about to lose a very big piece of himself.

 

Dropping his hand back to his side, Ron finally looked back down at him, his blue eyes holding him still on the ground as Harry felt another jolt of dread shock through him. "Because you recognize this don't you?" He tipped his head towards the barrier and drew his wand from his robes.

 

"No." Harry shook his head quickly, trying once again to deny what had been nagging at his thoughts and pounding in his veins.

 

"Never thought I'd actually lay eyes on a blood-arch." He murmured. "Besides I have a feeling your Slytherin wouldn't be all together ecstatic if it’s me that comes running to his rescue."

 

"Ron." Harry scrambled to his feet, shaking his head almost violently now. "You can't-"

 

"Nah Harry, it's my pleasure actually just don't snog him in my hospital room yeah?" Ron winked at him and as Harry lunged forward, his hand reaching out in front of him, Ron used his wand to slice across his palm and smeared his red blood on the barrier before him - his eyes rounding wide and his mouth forming an O as he started convulsing, his eyes rolling back in his head, transforming the sparkling blue to eerie white orbs. His feet tipped precariously before he feel backwards with a solid smack as the wall shimmered and dissolved, leaving the mouth of a foul smelling cave gaping before them.


	20. Chapter 20

Watching Ron fall, his face ashen and pain evident in the twisting of his limbs, felt like watching time on a split screen - a much younger version of his best mate foaming at the mouth with poison making its way alongside Harry's vision. Whether he meant to or not, that had been Draco's fault as well. Though then, Ron had been an unintended victim of the blonde’s desperation and fear and now Ron was lying on the rock with quaking tremors as the curse wove itself inside him because of his own volition.

 

Because the redhead knew how deep Harry's heart was entwined with Draco's.

 

Harry knew there wasn't anything he could do for his partner, that the curse was deep and powerful - the little he knew about blood-arches enough to make him nearly vomit. He felt off kilter and desperate and all he could think to do as he silently cursed the man for not thinking of himself and Hermione and his unborn baby was spell him into a sleep that would hopefully slow the curses progression and activate the emergency code in the man's Apparation bracelet.

 

With fear gripping his throat and tears blurring his eyes, Harry quickly sent a message with his Patronus to accompany Ron - both of them whisking away to St. Mungos where hopefully the Healers would get to him in time. He stared at the spot his friends body had popped from existence and willed himself to stop shaking - a part of him already shriveling up at just the thought of losing him. Apparently some great cosmic force had decided that Harry had had it too easy, that he had felt far too happy this last decade to allow him to continue on in such a manner.

 

What else would explain the two most important men in his life hanging on life's thin thread on the same day?

 

But the world had never been all to kind to him, never for long, and Harry knew how to fight back - it was ingrained in him, something Ron and Hermione called his fear of abandonment and Draco referred to as his hero complex. But it was neither, it was simply Harry clinging to the things that mattered, making sure he never had to turn a stone to gaze upon his loved ones ever again. With his jaw set and his green eyes sparking with determination, Harry rushed through the opening of the cave and down the smooth stone - his feet carrying him further and further underground at a steady and steep slope. His nostrils flared at a bloodied sharp rock and a scarlet smeared stretch of ground, his heart pounding and the beginning threads of murderous thoughts winding themselves through his mind.

 

The faces of the murdered victims flashed behind his eyes, the blank expression on Daphne's visage in the memory he had viewed of her questioning about her missing sister years ago and the tormented expression that had filled Draco's when he thought he was going insane with the girls memories in his head pressed at him - his feet thumping and echoing in a way that wasn't safe. But he didn't give a shit about stealth in that moment - all he cared about was getting to Draco as fast as he possibly could.

 

He burst through an old wooden door on loose hinges as the tunnel came to an end, the wood cracking against the stone with the force of his weight against it. He stumbled to a stop and blinked in the low candle light, the room he was standing in was carved out of the same stone as the tunnel, covered in draping lengths of white silk and gold overlay, ornate furniture that was far older than he could possibly place scattering the otherwise empty room. It reeked of decay and dark magic. Harry sent out a precautionary spell to detect anything nefarious, his feet carrying him immediately forward before it could even tell him anything - his hand latching onto the lone door on the other side and turning the old brass with a grating squeak.

 

He rushed down the spiraling, dizzying stone staircase that appeared beyond the threshold until he felt disoriented and slightly ill before he finally stepped through a door at the bottom and into a small, bleak square room with three doors in total - one on each side, identical in size and appearance. Harry clenched his wand as he eyed each one in turn, with no clue of which way to go, he instinctively turned right and had nearly pushed the door open when something pricked the back of his neck and held him place. He turned sharply, staring at the closed door behind him, straining his ears as he held his breath captive.

 

Time stretched, three possible outcomes threading their paths out before him, choosing the right door could vastly change how the future unfurled. That knowledge echoed in his head and he felt terribly frozen, staring at the door, hoping, hoping, hoping for some sign...

 

There had been a time, nearly two years ago, when Harry had angrily marched into Draco's office, his blood pumping hot and his mouth nearly foaming with fury. His green eyes had been blazing with manic destruction, as the blonde liked to put it, and the doorframe had shook with the force of his hand pressing the wood open despite the locks that had been put on it. He had stepped inside, his tongue heavy with the lashing he was ready to bestow upon the former Slytherin, when he stopped dead - all sound rushing out like a vacuum had been turned on and sucked out everything in existence around him.

 

He had stood there, splintered wood under his hand and anger forgotten, staring at the sight of Draco Malfoy stretched out cold on the floor - a sinister looking artifact with spidery legs gripping his upper chest.

 

There was a dull thunk in his head as he took in the man's blonde hair fanned out around him, a thick strand covering one eye, one pale hand atop the artifact as if he was merely sleeping. His lips had looked thin and pink, a wide reddening welt running down one cheek like a claw had scraped down his flesh. But it was his fine leather shoes, gone from his feet and sitting in a slightly unsymmetrical line to the man's left that had panic and fear surging sharply up Harry's body.

 

It was the sight of the man's black, gold toe socks that pulled Harry down to his knees, that ripped a shout from his throat. It was that damn shoe, ever so slightly askew, that made him realize just why he hated Draco Malfoy so much and why he couldn't fucking stand the idea of his gray eyes never snapping open to look upon him with blatant hostility again.

 

Harry's magic had crackled as his emotions swelled and the next thing he knew the artifact was smoking, Draco was blinking blurry eyes open, and tears were stinging his eyes that he would later blame on the smoke but in reality had nothing to do with it. That had been the beginning of his downward spiral, of the gray eyes that watched him in his dreams, of the voice he provoked simply so he could hear it, of the anger that fueled his blood, and the face that haunted his desires.

 

Draco had curled him tightly around his finger with just one askew shoe and the look of eternal sleep on his face. And Harry had only managed to get himself more tangled each and every day, falling deeper, and finding that he never wanted to find his way back out. Especially after he felt Draco's passion for the first time, that night in the club with his pale hands on Harry's hips and his hot lips on the darker man's neck, the delirious taste of his thick cock on his tongue.

 

Harry fell hard and now some psycho was threatening the man he loved. That day in his office when Draco had glared and shouted about Harry ruining his experiment when he finally came back to and pried the destroyed thing off himself was like a distant echo, reminding him of Draco's fire that burned so hotly through his veins Harry had once been sure he would be engulfed in it and never recover. The blonde could bring down the wrath of hell with one well pronounced word but there was also something deeper, something that begged for an outlet. He was fire and ice all in one and Harry didn't think he knew how he could ever go back to the mundane colors of life without him. He would choose right and he would sweep the man up and make sure he could never be stolen from him again.

 

His future would hold vivid colors because he was done living in shades of black and gray.

 

Wand held high, Harry kicked the weak door open, the splintering crack of breaking wood echoing loudly as he skidded inside - a curse ready on the tip of his lips that died in an instant as his eyes took in the confusing sight before him. Several emotions flooded him as Harry's eyes first fixed on Draco - alive and aside from his red mattered hair on the back of his head, looking well and unharmed - kneeling on the floor in the back of the room beside a large glowingly white bed. His blonde head was bowed, one hand tightly holding the shoulder of a slender woman who was slumped against the wall - her own blonde hair hiding her face, her long thin limbs blue tinged and almost skeletal, the outline of the disk's engravings marring the inside of her wrist.

 

Harry took in the entirety of the sight in the beat of a single second, the oddly furnished bedroom a disorienting backdrop to find not only Draco but Olivia in. Together. Protocol demanded that he hang back, that he assess any possible dangers, that he categorize the situation and remain at a suitable distance. But protocol and complete rule abiding had never been Harry's strong points and he was beside Draco, his knees banging harshly against the stone in the next moment - his hands reaching out to touch the Analyst to prove to himself that he was real and there.

 

"Draco." He gasped, his voice raw as his fingers connected with the solidness that was the blonde, relief so strong he had to fight against the urge to lunge forward and wrap the man up in his arms and never let go.

 

Worn gray eyes flicked over to him, Draco's entire body unnaturally still. "Potter?" His voice sounded hollow, the storm that normally raged in his gaze holding a flatness to them that made Harry's heart constrict and mind whirl.

 

He reached up to gently take the red stained, crusted locks between his thumb and index finger. "Are you okay? What happened?" He rushed to ask, his other hand coming to grasp Draco's cheek that was icy to the touch, making him press his fingers in deeply, dragging himself closer as he felt his pulse beat frantically - the blonde smelling oddly of smoke and citrus.

 

"I'm fine, it's fine." Draco mumbled dazedly, his gaze slipping away from Harry, snipping the last of the man's resolve, his arm curling around Draco's shoulders like he could keep him from harm with just enough contact - wishing his touch could bring the heat back into the man's skin and make the smart arse drawl come back to his voice. The slumped way Draco held himself coupled with how he just kept staring at Olivia adding an aching fear to all the questions that wanted to come spilling out in one unintelligible gush.

 

"We need to go." Harry instructed, glancing behind himself, knowing he was making enough damn noise to alert anyone in the premises.

 

Draco shook his head. "There's no one else here." He said quietly, Harry's brow furrowing in confusion.

 

"The murderer -"

 

"She didn't mean to. She didn't want to." The words sounded painful dripping from his tongue, like an anguish so deep and fresh was ripping through him.

 

"She..." Harry's gaze snapped to Olivia, really taking her in for the first time. She was unconscious, that much was obvious, her pink lips open like she had been about to scream. Or plead. Her body looked beyond frail, like a gust of wind could break her, but her hand was tinged in red - the sight of no doubt Draco's blood on her fingers making Harry's stomach twist painfully, the dread only growing and winding through him as he noticed the identical thin red cuts on both their palms. "Olivia is the murderer? I don't...how?"

 

"Astoria." Draco interrupted. "She's Astoria and I...I didn't even realize. I forgot all about her, letting her rot down here for years." His words shook, his face jerking to dislodge Harry's hand from his cheek, his shoulder lifting to rub against the skin Harry had been touching like he was trying to expunge the feeling of the Auror on him - making something ache desperately inside Harry.

 

"Olivia is Astoria?" He repeated, hardly believing his own ears - how the fuck could that be? But Draco nodded slowly, his eyes sliding shut. "And Astoria murdered...she murdered all those people?" Again Draco nodded and Harry swallowed a lump. "Did she plant the portkey to bring you here?"

 

"Yes."

 

"But...why?" Harry tried and failed to scramble for answers in his own head. It didn't make any sense, he couldn't grasp onto it, it was like trying to climb a wall of pure silk - nothing for him to gather purchase with. Not to mention the look on Draco's face was breaking his heart into little pieces, his fingers itching to set it right - someway, somehow, except he had no idea how he possibly could when he didn't understand one bit of what was happening.

 

"It was a spell...she wanted to enact an ancient spell. It probably would have worked too, would have freed here from that monster."

 

Questions were piling up at a much too rapid rate in his head - overwhelming and making his skull feel like it was going to split if he didn't start getting some actual answers. But Draco wasn't himself and Harry had to fight against blurting out demanding questions of his own. "What spell, what happened?" He asked softly, his arm tightening around Draco, the fact that Astoria brought Draco down to these maddening tunnels to perform some sort of ritual making his skin crawl - fearful she had succeeded in some way, his eyes straying once more to their sliced hands.

 

He didn't know much about old magic and the ancient rituals that once were the threads that wove the purebloods together, but he knew it was powerful and once enacted hard to ever undo...

 

"It was a binding...a knot...but it requires...everything and even under..." Draco glanced up at him from under his hair that was a month past his pristine upkeep of it, the rest unspoken and shining bright in his eyes - a glimmer of the fire Harry was used to seeing in his gaze sparking somewhere far in their depths.

 

Harry's breathing became thick as he stared back, the revelation that Draco had apparently been held under Astoria's mind control for a period as she tried to entwine their beings to free her from something evil sinking to the back of his head as why she had failed pressed to the forefront. "Draco..."

 

"I couldn't save her." His eyes glazed over again, the spark extinguishing, his icy pale hand coming up to grasp Harry's bicep almost painfully. "She waited for me, she needed me, since she was a kid and I...I just...I tried.”

 

"It's not your fault." Harry rebutted, clasping onto the hand gripping him. "None of this is your doing."

 

"Empty words." Draco's head fell sharply forward, the gash on the back of his head still leaking in thick strands close to the roots. "Those memories...she was calling to me - begging for help. It took me too long, I didn't realize. I can't seem...to do... I failed her."

 

"Draco she murdered numerous people...she's not innocent in all of this."

 

"No, you can't hold her to those, you can't send her to Azkaban Harry. She needs help, she needs...it's Thornbee's fault, he did this to her, he twisted her, even now…she's losing." Draco's head jerked up, his gaze landing heavily on Harry's as he pleaded with him, panic lacing his words, his chest hitching like every little breath was physically painful for him. "I saw it." His voice dipped so low Harry could barely hear him, the muscle under his eye twitching. "I saw it. She needs help and...how do you do it Harry?"

 

"Do what?" He asked quietly, catching Draco's hand as it fell from Astoria's shoulder. God he was so cold and rambling in a way that made him seem like he had been drowning in liquor all week. Through his peripheral vision he took note of the ornate knife lying on the ground next to a smoldering cauldron, the crystal goblet with a small drop of yellow liquid clinging to the bottom. Someone had drunk from it and Harry feared he knew who.

 

He cursed silently and frantically searched his memory for anything that might help. But he was rubbish at this kind of thing, this was Draco's expertise not his.

 

Draco searched his face, silently scrutinizing him before sagging forward in what looked like pure exhaustion. "How are you always saving people? How do you manage it because I can't...she needed one thing from me and I couldn't...I'm a selfish fuck. She...almost finished it and I could see it working...was almost free of that man's grip…but all I could think about was you. If she kept talking that I wouldn't ever be able to...you again, that I wouldn't be able…that I'd lose you...I killed her chance all because I'm a selfish arse. All because I...and you..."

 

Harry felt like his heart was about to burst from his chest, an elation that was entirely inappropriate for the setting rushing through him - his cheeks flushing and his knees sliding closer as he wrapped his arms around the blonde. "That's not selfish. You don't have to sacrifice yourself for anyone." He tried to keep the smile from overtaking his lips as he brushed his fingers under Draco's chin and lifted his head, staring into his tormented gaze and breathing deep the scent clinging to Draco's lips. The scent that gave Harry the smallest hint of what was coursing through his veins.

 

Fuck. It was a vague memory of sitting in a classroom, cauldron's bubbling and stories too gruesome to ever properly concentrate on dropping from his professor's lips. He remembered this one though, was drawn to its bright color and comforting scent. But Draco said he had stopped it before she could finish, the question rested in how far did she get? He knew that these types of spells had layers in them, that there were stages that had to be completed and requirements that had to be met but he couldn't remember at what step Draco would be forced to drink from the goblet...and did she manage to wind the first thread of the binding around them?

 

"Sacrifice is what you do. It's what...what I need to do."

 

Harry nodded slowly. "We'll find another way."

 

"What if there isn't one? What if this is it?" Draco whispered, his eyes wide and fear breaking through the cloudy haze and though Harry could only understand a smidgen of the responsibility Draco felt for the young woman, he knew the man was deeply torn over it - that it would leave it's mark for years to come and only scrape deeper when Draco was freed from the constrains of what Astoria had managed to do to him.

 

"You'll find something, that brilliant mind of yours hasn't failed you yet." He promised, grasping the side of Draco's neck when he tried to turn away from him and back towards the young woman. "Trust me."

 

Pale eyelashes shut over gray eyes as Draco shook his head, his fingers like sharp claws in Harry's arm. "No, no it's too risky. I can't...not again. I have to do this."

 

"Binding yourself to her is not the answer." Harry stated firmly, the idea of stunning Draco and dragging him physically away from the situation until he was back in his right mind roared at him but he let it linger in the back - a failsafe if it all went to shit. Because he knew Draco, knew that if the blonde came back to himself after having been ripped away from the situation against his will that he would blame himself even more - that it would eat and eat and eat at him until he turned bitter and distant.

 

Then there was the damn spell and the potion and would it have any negative effects if he were to break Draco away without doing something about it first?

 

"It is." Draco argued, his frozen fingers scrapping into Harry's skin as he grasped the dark haired man's face, his eyes still shut tight. "Release me Potter. Give me back my heart so I can do the right thing for fucking once in my life."

 

"No." Harry wasn't sure what he felt more in that moment - a surge of emotion over the fact that Draco had just admitted just how much he cared for him or a hopeless sorrow that the man felt he needed to rip out his own wants to mend another. "I can't do that."

 

"Why the bloody hell not?" Draco cried, anguish clear in his tone and his gaze stirring with the beginnings of a storm - the sight allowing hope to light in his heart. "You do not need me, send me back to where I belong and release me. Please."

 

"But I do." He corrected, the arm around Draco's back dropping to his waist and tugging him closer when he tried to scramble away. "I need you so much Draco, I thought I had lost you today and I couldn't...I can't cope with that. So however much Astoria needs you I need you more because I love you and to bind yourself to her would be to shatter me and I'm fucking done with self-sacrifice."

 

"You don't love me." Draco said quietly, the quick jerks of his body as he tried to release himself stilling like someone had stuck him still in place with a dozen knives.

 

Harry smiled softly and shook his head, his hand brushing the sweaty strands of hair from Draco's forehead. "I do love you, you stubborn prat. Very, very much and if you don't stop with this nonsense and see that we will and can find another way to help her then I'm going to slash my own hand and bind you to myself before you can bolt." He threatened, not actually having any clue how one would go about doing that or even what that really meant but needing to try and get through to the other man any way he could.

 

Lifting a shaky hand, Draco pressed a finger to the middle of his brow as his throat worked. "Don't talk like that right now." He said through heavy breaths.

 

"Why?" Harry murmured, taking note of the sudden change in him and leaning forward pressed his lips lightly over the other man's, feeling the tremble that raked through him at the soft contact. "Don't think I mean it?"

 

"No, I...I drank the...and the smell is rather..." He trailed off and blinked his eyes at him, his chest heaving. "....Merlin Harry...I can't think with you this close."

 

"Why?" Harry repeated, brushing his lips over Draco's cheek and jaw, somehow managing to rise to his feet and take Draco with him, backing them away from Astoria's prone body slumped against the wall - slowly, slowly like he was leading a wounded animal. Perhaps if he could just get him far enough from the woman then his head would clear and he would come to his senses.

 

Draco followed him like a love lorn puppy, his feet clumsy and his arms wobbly around Harry's shoulders, his eyes blinking rapidly as Harry kept kissing his face. "You...your mouth...love kissing you." He sounded disoriented as Harry drew him back through the door and into the little square room, Draco's back connecting with the opposite wall after Harry kicked the door shut behind them. He moaned loudly as Harry pressed their lips together, his tongue slithering out to rub against Draco's and Harry felt the man's knees buckle as he squished him into the wood and plundered his mouth.

 

There was something very wrong with how quickly Harry lost himself in kissing Draco with Astoria unconscious behind them and the man himself drugged and very nearly bonded to someone else - both of those things no doubt major factors as to why the blonde was reacting to him almost savagely. Because even through the haze that was rolling in, Harry could now taste the sweet nature of the potion, his brain sighing softly that it held something akin to an aphrodisiac. The knowledge made him both furious at the tormented woman for trying to ensnare what was his and buzzing as it became obvious that somehow - even with mountains stacked against him and his own body telling him to do it - Draco hadn't been able to give in.

 

Because he already belonged to Harry.


	21. Chapter 21

Draco wasn't quite sure where he was.

 

His body felt oddly heavy, simmering with want that seemed to have no outlet but instead just built and built and built inside him. His head swam, fragments of words and images floating up and receding like waves in an ocean. His hand's gripped strong shoulders, long lean muscle pressing against him like an invading army, trapping him against...wood?

 

There were hot lips against his, searing him with their touch, wet heat unfurling through him and driving that agonizing want but he didn't...Harry. His eyes snapped open as the waves brought the memory of the other man back to the surface, the familiar taste and feel now coating his senses and making him wonder how on earth he could ever have forgotten who he was kissing.

 

He whimpered and pressed forward, still feeling dizzy and unsteady but needing...Merlin he needed. His fingers ran over soft material, slipping into familiar tangled hair, his hips rocked, his mouth gasped, and heat rose and rose up inside him. Then the wave was gushing back out, taking with it all color, draining him of thought and Draco found himself just a mess of senses, blindly taking it with his head against the wall and hands grasping lean sides almost painfully...where was he again?

 

"Draco, fuck Draco...don't..."

 

His vision returned as Harry's voice seeped through his ears, the man's face looming - lips wet, skin flushed, hair a disaster, green eyes clouded with equal parts lust and worry. He felt something hard and hot pulse under his fingers and he glanced down to see his hand shoved down Harry's pants. Huh, he didn't remember...

 

He licked his lips and frowned...they tasted...sweet...

 

He shook his head, closed his eyes, and kissed Harry again, drinking down the man's gasp and moan and inwardly cursing as the want built in fervor and pitch - pulsing through him. Merlin he felt like he hadn't tasted the man in years, hadn't felt his flesh in decades, he needed to fold himself into him, he needed to crush himself and join with Harry, he needed to...to...his head lolled back, his heart seizing in his chest. Merlin he needed it now or he was surely going to die.

 

"Finish it Harry...now." His voice sounded odd and thick but he could hardly care in the moment, as long as Harry closed in and enveloped him.

 

But he didn't.

 

Instead Draco was suddenly very cold, wobbling in place as he tried to get his vision to focus and stop spinning. He was...Merlin what was that smell?

 

"Draco, damn it are you okay?"

 

"No, Potter." He grumbled, still trying to make the man out, knowing he was standing before him - he could fucking feel him - but unable to make him come into focus. "I'm not..." He blinked, the room stopped spinning and he found himself in a dank, badly lit room, what felt like a door behind him and two on either side of him. He was...he was...

 

He was in the bloody tunnel still, which meant, "Astoria." He gasped, clutching his head as the memories started pinging forward, all of them fuzzy around the edges. Where was she? Oh god he hadn't left her had he? "Where is she?" He demanded, his free hand pressing against the wall as he tried to keep from falling, his legs weak and unsteady. "I need to..."

 

"No." Potter was back, his arms catching him around the waist and pressing him back against the wood. "Hey, look at me...stay with me Draco."

 

His scent wrapped around him and Draco's eyes widened and panic gripped him as he tried to push away, grasping at the memories of the day as they started slipping through his fingers to hide once more in the dark. It felt as if each moment of his life was flying away from him on bits of parchment, caught up in a bellowing wind until all that was left was the feel of the other man solidly around him and flecks of paper in the distance. "Potter...Potter...stop..." He was running out of air with Harry so close again, losing himself in those concerned green irises. His lungs heaved, his arms pushed, and he needed to get back...to do...something...to catch the parchment...he needed....

 

Potter touched his face, his grip tightening, he opened his mouth and spoke but Draco didn't hear any of it beyond the deep rumble of his tone dipping into his skin and coating him in buzzing electricity.

 

"Harry." He groaned and found his hands pulling the man nearer in an abrupt change of movement, the confusion in the man's face quickly winking out as Draco's gaze slipped shut and he kissed him - possessively, strongly, eagerly. He heard himself moaning, felt his entire body pulse, growling and digging his fingers into the back of the Auror's head when he tried to break away.

 

"M-you...stop...ahhh...Draco, ple-fuck!" Potter cursed and panted and though the room was spinning again and Draco felt like he was about to surely melt into a puddle of useless heat, he clutched the man and refused his retreat, descending on his neck with lips and tongue and teeth - lapping up the taste of his skin covered in salty sweat. "Fuck that's..."

 

"Fuck me." Draco said in a low growl, his hands pushing at the band of Potter's trousers, his teeth leaving damp fabric and half-moons on the man's shoulder. He inhaled deeply the scent that was making him forget exactly who he was and why there was no bed and why the fuck they weren't naked yet with Potter deep inside him. "Now, fuck me now." He ordered, spinning himself until his chest was pressed into the door, one hand reaching back to fist into Potter's curls and the other fumbling with his belt buckle and fly.

 

"Draco, no, stop." Potter sounded breathless, his hands moving to press over the one trying to rid Draco of his trousers, stilling his movements.

 

Draco felt like screaming, his slick forehead pressing into the wood as he angled back and rubbed his arse against the hard bulge in Potter's pants. The feeling of it sent jolts of pleasure and need, more fucking need, washing through him. "Fucking do it Harry, I - god fuck, I need it." He wrenched his hand free, his blurry gaze fixing on the deep red cut running the width of his palm with a furrowed brow.

 

How the hell did that happen? Something tapped at his head, pleading with him to look its way but Draco tossed it aside, pressing the slashed flesh into the door and ignoring the burn emitting from it as he arched back even more and tugged on Potter's hair harshly.

 

"Oh god." Potter breathed wetly against his neck, his hips pressing forward to meet Draco's backward jerks, his fingers tight on the blonde's hipbones. "We can't." He said even as he ground into Draco's arse, rubbing with delicious friction that sparked and sparked, desperate to ignite. "Need to...shit!...talk."

 

"After." Draco felt lips on the base of his neck. "Or during, don't fucking care just...please."

 

"No, we should-"

 

"Merlin, damn it!" Draco cursed, banging his head into the door and sure that the want inside him was about to explode any second and take him with it if Potter didn't bloody do something soon, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants, unable to remember a time in his life that he had been so insanely hard. "I can feel how bloody hard you are, you git!"

 

"That's not..." Potter sagged a little behind him, his strong grip holding the wobbly blonde as still as he could. "Do you remember what she did?" He asked softly, letting go of his hips and with a startling quick move managed to untangle Draco's grasp in his hair and shove him back around. "Fuck Draco...are you," he paused, took a big step back and studied his eyes. "Do you remember where we are?"

 

Draco blinked, his face screwing up at Potter's continued refusal. "Of course I - she?" He shook his head, the fog swirling around his thoughts fanning out as Potter retreated another step - taking his warmth and vibrating, aching need away with him. Which hurt, drawing a physical pain inside him that seemed oddly familiar as his gaze flicked over Potter's shoulder and to the other door. "We're..." He could still feel Potter, so close but too far, allowing breaks of thought outside of his blind need to shine through. The light brought nothing good, images of tormented souls and heart shattering misery and even though Draco had fought so hard in his last several years to not be the coward he saw in his dreams, he couldn't take it - not with perfect oblivion two steps away.

 

Not when something inside him was screaming at him to surge forward and drown again.

 

So before Potter could figure out his intent, Draco had the man's wand in hand, flourishing it quickly and watching with a blazing fire in his eyes as Potter was thrown against the wall with his hands held above his head with conjured ropes. He was pressed from forehead to toe against him the next second, breathing in the ecstasy the contact brought along with the blissful washing out of all other thought.

 

He was empty, desperate to be filled, like the canvas of his entire being had been wiped clean and was waiting for Potter to pick up the paintbrush and remake him.

 

"Draco." Potter gasped, straining in his binds and trying to wiggle free. "You don't...you took a potion, remember that? Remember the spell? You don't want to do this now." He looked so very frightened and turned on and never before could Draco remember him being sexier. He had been wrong about Potter being an odd sort of handsome, the man was downright gorgeous in every imaginable way possible.

 

"Wrong Harry." Draco nipped at Potter's bottom lip before licking it wetly. "I want this, want you, and I want you now inside me." He kissed him full on the mouth, savoring the man's groan on his tongue and deep in his stomach. "Make me feel every inch of you." His tongue felt oddly heavy as he spoke, his words coming out slurred, making Potter's swollen, wet lips frown even as he stared back at him with lust darkened eyes.

 

But there was a magic in the touch of Potter's skin that was driving all concern away, making him instantly forget about his shoddy speech and wavering eyesight. He had Potter's trousers and boxer around his ankles in record time, his nails raking back up his thigh as he kissed and kissed, sucking in the other man's breath and grasping the back of his neck with his free hand. He pressed Potter into the wall with his body, rubbing his clothed crotch against his naked one, delighting in the shivers that passed through him as Draco set about devouring him. He ignored the protests that slipped form the man's lips every time their mouths disconnected, he barely comprehended Potter telling him over and over amidst moans and curses that they needed to get to a healer, that Draco didn't really want this right now, that he wasn't himself. In answer Draco simply bit him harder, pressed in closer, kissed him more passionately - telling Potter in so many words that he was wrong.

 

That Draco very, very much did want it.

 

He wasn't all together sure how his own pants had gotten kicked completely off or when he had conjured the sturdy chair that came to his waist. But there it was when he broke away from Potter's mouth, shutting the man's further protests up by squeezing his cock with a twisting wrist and a tongue along his neck. "Shut up Harry and make me yours." He whispered huskily in his ear, the sharp intake of breath from his lover’s lips trilling through him. The need inside him crackled, making him tear his lips from Potter's skin and removing his slick hand from lubing up Potter's prick before turning quickly.

 

"Fuck Draco." Potter gasped as the blonde grasped the back of the chair and using it to steady and anchor himself bent a little over it. "You look..."

 

With his head nearly pounding with his need for release, Draco reached back and grabbing Potter's cock, wiggled into position. It was horribly awkward and put a distracting strain on his back and legs but the moment the thick head touched Draco's hole he quickly forgot all about it. There was something telling him that it was too big, that it wouldn't fit, that it would surely split him apart, but there was something else - something stronger - that made his pulse jump and heart stammer as he smeared himself with Potter's precum.

 

"Don't make me do it all." He grunted as he stared pushing back, feeling his tight muscles scream in protest, pain exploding through him as they gave and the head of Potter's cock popped through - stretching him wide and holding him open as they both froze, Draco's mouth falling open.

 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Potter chanted. "You're too tight, god Draco you're - oh hell!" 

 

It was pain atop of pain, blooming through him in waves that just kept spreading as Draco's head swam, his arse nestled against Potter's crotch - his thick cock lodged fully inside him. It was excruciating and yet Draco could feel him, every little pulse of his flesh, every little twitch of his muscles. He felt stretched and stuffed and his heart was hammering against his chest. Glancing back he could see Potter stretched out, his hands bright red as they fought against the ropes, his eyes glazed, his mouth dropped so far open and despite his better judgement Draco moved - forward just a little and back, the pain inching away as he watched Potter's face and felt him struggle.

 

He saw it written so clearly on his face that Potter desperately wanted to let go and give in but something was holding him back - keeping his back straight and arse flush against the wall, his shirt a disheveled mess and pulled up in awkward angles, threatening the strength of his little black buttons.

 

Taking hold of the chair with both hands, Draco hung his head, fighting the urge to scream at the man to just give in, to give him what he needed. He started moving, gritting his teeth as he pressed forward and back, the need inside him gushing through his veins as Draco bit his tongue to keep from crying out. There was something pushing at his heart and he saw a tear fall from his cheek and splatter on the dirty stone ground, the sound of Potter crying out at each and every thrust and the feel of his cock burring so deep inside him making Draco's vision spot and seep with black. He ached for Potter's hands to be on him, he gasped and clamped his mouth shut around begging for his lips, he spread his legs a little wider and pushed back harder and faster - Potter's body stiff against the wall providing the perfect resistance to the hard fucking Draco so desperately sought.

 

"Fuck Harry, please, move...harder...god yes!" Draco's hands shook on the chair as his legs wobbled, his knees swaying dangerously as Potter finally began snapping his hips forward as hard as he possibly could in his position, knocking Draco's chest into the chair and stealing his air as he met each thrust. He felt like he was splitting apart, like Potter was the only thing keeping him in place, keeping him from disintegrating into a thousand little pieces.

 

It was bliss.

 

"Draco, god...yes, nhgnng, love you. Fuck, I love you."

 

A second tear drop splattered the floor as Draco felt his knees give out. His hands slipped, the thrumming in his veins screaming inside him and a second before he fell to the floor there were two arms wrapping around his waist - pulling him back against Potter's chest, driving his cock deep inside him, the hazy sight of severed ropes littering the ground.

 

"Harry." He sobbed, his face connecting with the wall in a world tilting movement while Potter kept pulling back on his body in deep, long thrusts that felt like they were trying to remake him. He cried out at the brush of fingers on his weeping prick, Potter's touch no longer hesitant but sure as he squeezed him at the base and rammed into him - pounding him into the wall.

 

"You are so fucking perfect." Potter panted in his ear.

 

"More." Draco groaned, tangling a hand back into Potter's hair and pulling, his eyesight blacking completely as everything disintegrated until all that was left was the feel of Potter around him, inside him, his voice the only thread to see by.

 

"Say you're mine, please, say you're mine Draco."

 

"Yes." He moaned in agreement, gasping for breath as his prostate was pummeled, his free hand clawing at the stone over his head.

 

Potter jerked Draco's head back with a hand on his neck and attacked his mouth, his tongue thrusting like his hips and his hand speeding up in quick jerks on his cock. "Yes, she can't have you, you're fucking mine."

 

With his shirt clinging to his sweaty skin and his mouth filled with Potter's slick tongue, Draco felt his body tighten as the thrumming rose inside him like a hurricane. "Harry...Harry god yes, harder...ahhhh!" His pupils dilated, his fingers stretching wide and taunt, his arse pushing back as he sunk into the wall - Harry shouting his name as he jerked and spilled his release deep inside him.

 

Time and reality bent in a funny distortion as Harry pumped into him, the sound and feeling of his orgasm causing Draco to gape at the blank wall with his cheek stuck to the stone. The pulsing prick in his tight channel, filling him up, felt like crashing from a great height, somehow knowing that he would never forget the explosion it ignited through his body. His own finish shocked through him in the next second with Harry's uncoordinated fingers on his cock, his dick still jerking in his arse, and his voice telling him how beautiful he was. He felt instantly faint as he listened to his own heartbeat that seemed to be outside his body, Harry's touch melting away like ice on heated metal, his sweet voice growing distant, the elation of feeling Harry like that for the first time slipping...slipping...his hand was burning.

 

He blinked and lifted it from the stone, staring at it with eyes that didn't want to focus, the red cut on his palm snapping sharp and clear in the next second.

 

"Draco?" Potter murmured against his back, his arms still holding his waist tight, a fire blazing haphazardly in his chest.

 

Draco clenched and opened his hand, the cut sizzling like it was calling for something...

 

"Draco?"

 

He narrowed his eyes and swallowed and then it hit like he'd been run over by one of those infernal muggle cars. "Oh bugger..." He grumbled seconds before there was a shriek from the room behind them and his eyes went cross-eyed - blackness rushing up all around him.

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

Sitting slumped against the wall - his arse throbbing in pain and his cheeks bloody cold, Draco's head wobbled as he tried to glance up - bright light bursting through the room, one pair of booted feet and another pair of naked toes scuffling across the floor.

 

"Let me go, I need to fix it!" A woman's voice shrieked, a sob breaking through her chest as the bare feet struggled on the stone.

 

"What the hell did you do?" That was Potter, his voice breathless, not at all like the tone he usually used with distraught murderers.

 

"You did it!" She cried and Draco wondered if perhaps he could get his tongue to start working so he could scream at them to shut the fuck up. His head hurt, splitting down the middle, the cut on his hand throbbing horribly all the way up his arm, he felt like he was teetering on the edge of something - just waiting for a little push to send him tumbling. "You stole him!"

 

"He wasn't fucking yours!" There was the hard voice Draco was used to hearing, Potter's uncontrollable magic sizzling in the air above his head. "Now tell me what you did."

 

"He needs...he needs to take the finial potion, quickly." Her feet turned back toward a door but Potter was swinging her back around within the beat of a second.

 

"Over my dead body." He hissed.

 

Draco did his best to tune their shouting match out, screwing his eyes shut and trying to think around the throbbing in his head. He could feel the potion he had drunk slowly melting from his blood, the electricity that Potter had sent rolling through him when he had spilled himself inside him replacing it and bouncing dangerously around. But he could think somewhat clearer now, he could see beyond the veil that had been drawn over him with the ritual Astoria had begun to enact before he snapped and...

 

Merlin fucking hell, he had practically forced Harry to fuck him. The reasoning seemed distant but he could remember the all-encompassing need and he had to chalk it up to the potion - knowing that the strong aphrodisiac it was laced with was often used to coerce less than compliant woman into bonds they may not have wanted. Yet he had only felt cold miserable dread when Astoria had kissed him after drinking it, the complete opposite of the aching craving that Potter's lips sparked in him. He shifted in unease, unsure why he had been so repulsed by her but positively dying for Harry's touch after his confession while under such an influential drug.

 

"If you're lying and do anything, anything, to harm him, I will tear you apart myself."

 

Potter's threatening words had Draco snapping his head upright despite the agony it caused him, watching with growing apprehension as Potter released Astoria from his strong hold on her and she turned her leaking eyes on him. His heart ached at the sight of her green gaze covered with pools of tears, his hand burning something fierce as she took a step nearer - the rumbling ball of electricity in his veins screeching.

 

"Astoria." He whispered, feeling the heavy weight of Potter's eyes searching him, his boots stopping at Draco's bare feet as her wispy frame sank to the ground before him. He wondered why, even now, after all she had done, even knowing that she had come close to stealing his future away for herself in a way that he still was having a hard time fathoming, he yearned to help her - to free her. Perhaps it was the glimpses she had forced into his head of her capture by Thronbee and all the pain and torment she had suffered at his hands.

 

For years upon years while Draco walked free, falling for someone who by all right should have been repulsed by him. Potter dropped to his side and clasped his clammy hand, causing a nearly painful jolt to ignite along his skin. He sucked in a breath and forced himself not to look at the other man, the darker wizard making Draco feel like he was about to fall down that deep slope inside him.

 

Which at the moment, despite the pain, was rather appealing to something moving inside him.

 

The problem was that he looked at her face and saw her screaming as she was dragged down the tunnel. He looked in her eyes and saw her soul split into so many fractions that she sometimes didn't even know who she was or what she was doing - carrying out a dead man's wishes and coming too covered in the stench of death. He took in her too thin frame and saw the day she managed to escape - to carve a life for herself in the muggle word, a life that was all too quickly ruined as she found her feet back at the tunnel time and time again. He glanced at her hands and saw the day she finally broke through his control long enough to steal her captures life from him - dumping his body in the lake and then finding herself back in her own room in the maze of tunnels. Shaking and crying and screaming at herself that she could leave.

 

It took her far too long before she had been able to make the walk out of the tunnels. But, even then, there were days were she would find herself back there, clawing at the voice of her tormentor in her head.

 

He wasn't sure after having seen so much of her life if he could ever condemn her for what she had done and tried to do and there was a part of him that wished she had succeeded - if only so that when he looked at her she wouldn't be torn and fragmented but whole, glimmering like she had in her youth. He remembered thinking his atonement would be in this but he had failed...again. Though now, after going through the whirlwind the ritual had caused there was a part of him that sobbed in gratitude that he hadn't - that he had somehow ended up rescued by Potter...again.

 

He didn't know what meant about his own soul.

 

"Draco, I'm..." She shook, her fingers digging into the mark on her wrist and Harry's grasp tightening on his.

 

He shook his head. "I will help you." He promised, watching the tears slide down her cheeks. "He won't touch you anymore."

 

"Maybe." She said sadly and Draco knew, could feel, that she held no hope for herself now that she had failed, that she feared beyond anything that the monster inside her would well up and strike again at any moment. "I need your wand." She spoke to Potter but kept her gaze on Draco, like she was trying to memorize his face to fill up her head for the long days to come while she rotted in Azkaban.

 

"No." Potter refused, pressing closer until Draco could feel him flush against his side. "Tell me and I'll do it."

 

"You told me...! I need to undo the -" Astoria was starting to sound hysterical again as she gestured to Draco and his slumped, aching body that was so very tired and so very bounding with electricity at the same time.

 

"Use mine." Draco interrupted, his voice hoarse like something had burnt the lining of his esophagus - prying his hand from Potter's to claps his other wrist tightly, the pain in his palm expanding and intensifying. In all honestly he had no clue why he still trusted Astoria with a wand pointed at him and perhaps he didn't, but knew that whatever she had done, she needed to undo. He knew by looking at her that she was warring inside, that a part knew she had to do it or something terrible would no doubt happen to him if the ritual wasn't completed or undone at this point, another part clawing to try and overtake Potter and try all over again. He just had to trust that she wouldn't succumb to the monster, that the adoration in her eyes wouldn't flash with the ghosts inside her and turn her back against him.

 

"Draco -" Potter started, frowning deeply.

 

"It's fine." He tried to reassure him but judging by the tightness on his face and the worry in his eyes Draco doubted he succeeded. Potter's jaw tightened, his throat swallowed, and just for a moment Draco saw the hurricane of fear and emotion swirling through his gaze - the intensity of it making Draco's breath hitch and his head spin again. They had both spent so much time worrying the other was going to get themselves killed over this case and here they were - Potter's nightmare turned real when he looked up in the hospital to find him gone.

 

He smiled, lifting his hand to brush a sweaty curl from Potter's forehead. From Harry's forehead. Merlin he didn't even realize how much he had...he sucked in a breath and looked away. This was not the time and place for such things.

 

"It will hurt." Astoria told him when she had his attention again, Draco's wand somehow already in her hand.

 

"This isn't the end Astoria." He said softly, closing his eyes, needing to reassure her one last time in case he wouldn't be able to in a few moments.

 

She blinked more tears, smearing them with the back of her clumsy hand as Harry slid his arm around his back, propping him up a little more, and pointing his wand at her with a face that dared her to misstep. He held her gaze, willing the last of his strength into her as she took his hand and pressed the tip of his wand over the cut on his palm.

 

Fire laced through him at the first word from her lips and Draco couldn't help but wonder if this was how being burnt alive felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only three more chapters to go! I'm hoping to find time to post against later this week :) thanks to everyone reading, I love getting your comments!


	22. Chapter 22

Draco felt odd.

 

No not odd....he felt...like someone had reached inside him and shifted all his vital organ's about, doused them with a rough cleaner, and sewed him back up. His tired eyes were still dusted closed but even without cracking them open he could tell that he was in St. Mungo's. The bed he was lying on was too hard, the sheets too starched, and whatever the hell they had clothed him in was abysmal. While he doubted that anyone actually liked hospitals Draco was fairly sure that he abhorred them above the socially acceptable norm.

 

Hospitals were on the same level as bodies of water to him - both seemingly innocent, both housing far too much power.

 

He gritted his teeth and tried not to move even a single inch. His heart felt hollowed out, a severally odd sensation. Still even with the oddness and the pain Draco firmly believed that he wasn't ill enough to be in the hospital in the first place. Probably Harry just overreacting yet again. It always seemed to be the man's fault whenever he found himself here and Draco figured it was about time to remind him that the only time it was acceptable to drag him through the magical doors was if he was hanging on death's door.

 

Though...perhaps he had been? He didn't remember much of what Astoria had done. Mostly he remembered fiery pain, shattering heartbreak that he was pretty sure was Astoria's, a swell of protective magic that felt like Harry's, and the other man's hands gripping him tight. Then the wand had dropped from her hand and she had collapsed into a ball and wept, the image searing itself into Draco's mind forever right before he blacked out.

 

"Are you finished over-analyzing everything now? It's growing rather tedious watching your eyelids twitch about."

 

Pansy, of course it was Pansy.

 

"Nothing? You do realize that I know you're awake right?" She huffed.

 

And where the hell was Harry? If he thought him bad enough to warrant a hospital visit shouldn't he have stayed? Bloody prat.

 

"You know you make this rather obnoxious face when you're thinking about Potter? All pinched around the nose..."

 

Everything was coming back to him in slow waves, reminding him that it was entirely possible that Harry had admitted to loving him at some point and that he had begged the man to fuck him. In hindsight, knowing what he knew now, it made perfect sense why Harry had been so conflicted, why he didn't want to go through with it. Of course that hadn't stopped Draco. He could almost still feel the ache of Harry pushing inside him and he doubted that it would go away anytime soon – real or imaged, it seemed burn into him at the moment.

 

Unexpectedly enough, he didn't actually mind, in fact he now knew why Harry was typically a top - the man was fucking brilliant at it.

 

"Are you thinking dirty thoughts now? Merlin Draco you're in the hospital for gods sake, when in the world would you have had time to...oh lord. You didn't? Only you, I swear, would shag Potter while a madwoman was holding you captive. Your obsession with that man is truly unhealthy."

 

Draco silently agreed with her, he truly was in way over his head. He hated to think how he must have come across in those moments, what Harry must have thought of him.

 

"Is this silence some sort of punishment for telling Millicent and Tracy and Katy about your Potter fixation? Because I only told them some of the details, I left out all the sappy wall kissing and stuck strictly to the desk humping. They rather enjoyed themselves...Millicent a bit too much really...if that helps?"

 

Draco scowled, lifting a weak hand to rub at his temple.

 

"No point getting all tetchy love, it's not as if it was a secret considering only you and Potter seem to be under the impression that you two are still in the closet. It's rather obvious to anyone with two sets of eyes or even just a rather keen sense of hearing..."

 

"Are you done yet?" He ground out, cracking one eye open to glare at her, her shrill voice making it hard to categorize and analyze his thoughts.

 

"Ah look at that, he lives." She smirked and tapped her purple tipped fingernails against her cheek.

 

"Hand me my chart." He ordered, pointing to the metal clipboard at the end of his bed, ignoring her sarcasm which tended to be her default setting whenever she got overly worried.

 

"So you can stare at it in incomprehension?" She snickered but did as he asked anyway.

 

"No, so I can see if I can strangle you without it killing me." He flipped it open and frowned at the date on the top, well damn, he'd been there for two days already - two whole days filled with Merlin knew what, while his body floated between this world and the next. With a grumble he ran his eyes down the long technical names and list of potions they had given him, all of it basically amounting to one thing - his body had been sent through one crazy lope with all the strong magic that had been forced into him but all in all he was fine...well mostly. There were two pesky words at the bottom that made his stomach knot: Inconclusive Damage. What the hell did that even mean?

 

"Oh I already know the answer to that, killing me would be utterly devastating for you and would slowly eat you up inside day by day until you could no longer take it and you'd embrace death just to see my lovely face again." She reached forward and plucked the clipboard from his stiff fingers, placing it out of easy reach before he could flip back the first page. "Stop scowling, you'll ruin your handsome face like that."

 

"I don't feel well." He grumbled as he sat up, the hard bed creaking beneath him.

 

"That would be because you almost bound yourself to a psychotic murderer and then tried to randomly switch it to Potter. Not all together wise don't you think dear?"

 

He peaked at her from a crack in his fingers, his head held tight in his hands, hearing it worded so bluntly and boiled down to its simplest explanation making an uncomfortable wave of nausea swim through him. What a fucked up situation. And despite of everything he still felt the need to check in on Astoria, to seek out where she was and make sure she got the help she needed. But even more than that he needed to see Harry. "How do you..."

 

"I am a very good listener...well technically it may be classified as eavesdropping but still." She shrugged. "I think you even died there for a moment, at least that's what I think Potter was sobbing about."

 

"So nice to see you care Pans." He drawled, dropping his clammy hand back to the starched blanket spread over his knees.

 

She flashed him a smile as she played with the hem of her skirt, her gaze taking on a sharp edge to it. "Draco...I'm...alright well, you see I don't think I can bare to lose you, you inconsiderate imbecile." She shifted her eyes down to her lap and took a deep breath before pinning him with a haughty you bettering fucking do as I say look. "So don't you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me? No more playing at being a Gryffindor. You are a Slytherin for Merlin's sake, sit back and direct your minions to do the gritty work or I'll have no choice but to disown you."

 

"I don't have minions." He murmured, his heart finding a fleck of peace at the obvious fear that she had been plagued with while worrying over him. God above help him but he did love her.

 

She sniffed and waved a hand over her head. "You have Potter, same thing."

 

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear that." He shot her a smile before carefully reaching out and taking her hand. She reluctantly returned it - her fingers clasping his far tighter than need be, her knuckles whitening, cheeks pinking, and eyes glistening with unwanted tears. It reminded him that despite the hard, rather horrid, exterior that there was a bleeding heart beneath it all and Pansy would forever be on his side.

 

"Yes, well, like I give a fuck what he thinks." She scoffed, yanking her hand free and rising to her feet, her hands that looked a tad unsteady smoothing down her skirt. "The drooling sack of flesh that is my husband will be getting worried so I shall be going and since you're much too proud to ask, Potter's down the hall with Weasley, room 24, don't fuck it up." And with that she flipped her hair over her shoulder and sauntered out of the room, her jewel encrusted purse swinging at her hip.

 

"Weasley?" Draco repeated after her but she didn't respond, her heels clicking faintly down the hall as he silently cursed her love for dramatic exits.

 

There was a brief strangulation of worry over the thought that Harry had somehow ended up in the hospital as well but he quickly quelled it, swinging his legs off the bed and testing his weight on the cold floor. He had the vague memory of the man carrying him at some point, which was rather horrific and thus deserved no more thought, so if he was indeed a patient it was probably for superficial wounds or for some precautionary tests.

 

Right?

 

He felt a little shaky on his feet and he couldn't help but glare down at the atrocious white pants and shirt that seemed better suited to clothe Hagrid than himself as he hiked up the trousers legs to keep from tripping. He glanced around the bare little room, his gaze lingering on the line of potions on the bedside table, his feet ice cold on the tile as he took two careful steps, reached out, and grabbed the clipboard Pansy had snatched back from him. He wasn't sure if it was just his need to know all the facts about his condition, the realization that he may not be physically able to march down the hall like he had intended, or if perhaps he was simply stalling from finding out just why Harry and Weasley were in their own room - but his eyes seemed to snap back to those two little words like magnets, tethering him to his room for the time being.

 

Inconclusive Damage.

 

Never a good turn of phrase.

 

His memory of his time in the tunnel felt like a living, shifting thing - something that seemed bent on keeping him disoriented and confused above all else when he tried to concentrate on it. He could remember so much heartbreak - so much agony that had been Astoria's and then theirs and then his. He could remember the feeling of being overtaken, like someone was madly scribbling their life over the top of his until he couldn't be sure where his truth started and theirs began. He could remember his heart crying out for Harry and then he had just appeared, so sudden by his side while he warred and fought against Astoria, against himself, against the memories...

 

He wondered if Harry even knew. He wondered how much the other man had been able to glean about what had almost taken place.

 

Except...he wasn't all too sure about that part either. He still didn't know how Astoria had managed everything she did, he still didn't understand the disks, or how she herself had ended up a near victim and in the hospital. He felt like he could drive himself mental with all he still didn't know - the mystery only seeming to expand in his heart and head until he felt light of air and brittle in bone.

 

"Bugger." He bit his lip and tugged a hand through his mangled hair, frowning at the crusty locks at the back of his head and the greasy strands on his brow. He glared once more at the two damning words and flipped the page over, his tired gray eyes scanning down the parchment - seeking answers he honestly wasn't sure he would ever receive.

 

Then he saw it and all he could do was blink, rub his eyes with the back of his hand, and narrow his gaze until the words were only a slivered line of black ink. "Bloody hell," he cursed. Astoria had confessed to her treatment of him, the things she had done to him listed clinically on the page with the Healer's prescribed remedies next to it. The list was long, longer than he would have ever thought possible and the reality of it made his stomach knot, but it was the blocked words in the middle that caught and held his attention above all else.

 

An incomplete/aborted attempt of an Aeternum Bond resulting in...

 

A fucking Aeternum Bond.

 

He knew Astoria was desperate, that she felt in some twisted way that Draco could bring about her freedom, he knew that she had tried to bond with him...but like this? Merlin she could have emptied him like a hallow vase and filled him however she saw fit, she could have poured out her terror and used Draco as the sponge to soak it up, she could have used him as a hide away - tucking herself into him until they were both just a knot of horror and deranged tendencies. She could have lost not only him but herself to the unbridled power of an ancient ritual like that...she could have killed them both.

 

And he had resisted it. He had resisted one of the most powerful of the ancient bonding rituals. How the fuck was that even possible? He should have been putty in her hand, he should have bent to anything she willed, he should have been able to walk through the steps needed with blind obedience. He by all rights should be bound irrevocably and eternally to her... 

 

"Draco."

 

He glanced up sharply, his face deathly pale and hands sweaty, the floor swaying beneath him. Harry stood in the doorway, the darker man's hand still on the doorknob, his foot paused halfway into the room. He looked horrible - bloodshot eyes rimmed with purple, his skin pallid, dark and thick stubble shadowing his chin and cheeks in a stark contrast. He was still in his uniform, the shirt unbuttoned to reveal a dingy white tee underneath, the fabric rumpled so thoroughly that Draco knew the man had been sleeping in them since that day in the tunnel. Draco's eyes found Harry's hand on the brass knob, what looked like a deep bite wound on the juncture of his thumb and pointer finger.

 

Draco opened his mouth with his heart bursting through his chest in a frantic rhythm but before he could even form a single sound he found himself engulfed by solid, trembling warmth as he was pulled against Harry's body, the clipboard clattering to the floor. It only took him a moment to realize that the shaking was coming from him, his hands unsteady as he buried his face in the crook of Harry’s shoulder. He felt instantly weak with his arms full of the man he had almost lost forever, as if his body had been waiting to give into its exhaustion until that very moment, until he was surrounded by the man he desperately needed. He squeezed his eyes shut, unsure if he would ever feel strong enough to let go again, his lips finding the curve of Harry's neck and planting little kisses along the musky skin there that smelled like dried sweat and antiseptic.

 

He desperately wanted to shut off his mind and just sink completely but he couldn't stop the spinning in his head, the questions pressing hotly forward unceasingly. He had resisted that blasted bond but his chart said there was damage...unknown, inconclusive. Which meant that Astoria had accomplished something - but what?

 

"Harry...I..." His hands gripped the man's dirty and rumpled shirt between his shoulder blades, pulling like he was trying to dissolve into him, the beat of Harry's heart fast against his own. Harry nodded as if he understood all that Draco couldn't make his tongue form, his face pressing into the blonde’s unwashed hair.

 

Did he know what kind of bond Astoria had attempted? Did the heroic Auror understand just how close Draco had come to being washed out? Draco knew he should be asking, that he should be pulling back and seeking answers but instead he crushed himself against Harry, gripping so tightly with Harry's fingers mimicking his own that he wouldn't be surprised if they were leaving bruises on each other. He saw the briefest flash of green as Harry grasped his chin and pulled him up and into an urgent kiss - the touch of Harry's lips and the feel of his breath puffing against his cheek, one hand holding his neck and the other keeping him tightly in place around his back was like pure relief, tendrils of fear he hadn't let himself dwell on leaking away. He pressed closer and drowned in the warmth and safety that was Harry, his hands traveling over his back as he felt his knees wobble.

 

"Draco -" Harry pulled back, cupping his face and sighing long and low as he pressed wet kisses around his mouth. "God you're alright." It was more of a reassuring statement to himself than anything Draco distantly realized as Harry kept touching his face with his fingers and lips, breathing over him with rugged pants. He felt connected to the man's lingering anxiety over all that had happened right then - could feel it in the tight coil of his muscles and the strong brush of his fingers, he could hear it in his voice, and taste it on his lips. Harry may not have understood everything but he knew enough to know that holding Draco right then was a miracle in itself, knew what they shared had almost slipped like water through a cracked goblet. "You're alright." He murmured again before capturing his mouth once more.

 

He felt that ache that only Harry could ignite inside him spread through him and he threw himself at it - desperate to forget if only for a few blissful seconds that he was damaged. He was pretty sure that Harry was most likely supporting his entire body weight and that perhaps he should be laying down but Merlin help him, he couldn't stop. He let himself be devoured, his fingers gripping harshly in Harry's skin, because kissing Harry felt like reawakening - like something was trying to fill his oddly hollowed out being once more.

 

Perhaps that was part of the damage Astoria had left behind - perhaps she had left him empty, like a jar whisked clean and then sealed tightly, trapping the air and setting it useless and desolate on the shelf. Perhaps over time he'd turn into a replica of his mother, a frozen void of a man, walking aimless and passionless through life. He whimpered at the thought and tilted his head a little more, savoring the man's taste on his tongue.

 

Harry stopped kissing him slowly, reluctantly, keeping him in a tight embrace and his lips a carefully receding caress that Draco could feel he didn't want to end. "Sorry." He muttered with his forehead against Draco's, his mouth open and breathing heavily against Draco's tingling lips. His thumb moved to trace over the blondes wet bottom lip, his tired green eyes fluttering closed and open. "Do you need to lay down?"

 

Draco shook his head, unwilling to vacate Harry's arms just yet. "Tell me what happened." He murmured quietly, leaning into Harry's fingers. "I...know what she tried to do but I...how?"

 

Harry sighed and placing a light kiss on his lips led him back over to the bed, pulling him carefully down until they were lying side by side on the small mattress, their hands entwined on Harry's chest. Draco stared at the ceiling, somehow feeling emptier because of it, but he kept his eyes still on the white none the less - Harry's hand tightening around his as he began to talk.

 

He told Draco about tracking him down, about how Weasley had smeared his cut over the blood-arch and willingly took the curse into his body so Harry could get to him - the redhead currently critical but stable down the hall. He told him about finding him with an unconscious Astoria (something he couldn't remember doing, but he must have knocked her out somehow). "We can't figure out how you managed to resist or why you..." Reacted so strongly to me was the rest of the unspoken sentence, something Draco was glad for being left unsaid. "She barely managed to reverse the threads of the bond she had woven and what we had…almost completed. It drained her to do it and you were both drifting in and out of consciousness at the end. After a while she admitted to all that she had done and we quickly fed the information to the Healers who were stalling on working on you until they knew."

 

Draco glanced down to the bite mark on Harry's hand at the hard edge in his tone, seeing in his mind’s eye the tussle that must have ensued for him to wrangle the confession out of her while they were both so wound and strung out. "Where is she?" He asked quietly.

 

"Holding cell. She's been alternating between crying and violent outbursts so strong that they've had to add extra wards around her."

 

"Have they figured out how she managed to leave the hospital?" He asked as he turned towards Harry, seeking his warmth as coldness flooded him.

 

"No. She doesn't make a lot of sense, she tends to get lost in thought and forget where she is for a moment during the questionings, rambling nonsense." Harry shifted until he was lying on his side as well, their hands between them, Harry's thumb moving over the joints of his fingers. "Luckwood thinks it all has to with the disks somehow. There's a team of Healers and psychologists assigned to her case and her family has been informed."

 

Draco nodded. "That's good." He mumbled, the hollowness in his chest seeming to throb at the thought of her pain, almost like he was somehow connected to her on some level. It bloody hurt.

 

"Draco, I know you've been through hell but..." he sighed and shifted nearer." Don't own her pain or mistakes. It's not yours and I know you think you've failed her but you haven't. She needs help and she's going to get it now because of you."

 

"Azkaban?" Draco asked, closing his eyes tightly in preparation, unwilling to hear those kinds of words of comfort just yet.

 

Harry sighed and wrapped his arm around Draco's side, tugging him closer. "There will be a trial but I think it’s more likely she'll end up in a secure hospital so she can receive treatment."

 

"Will you request it?" Harry's name still held a tremendous amount of pull if he put enough pressure behind it and could very well be the swaying factor in Astoria's case.

 

"I already have."

 

Draco looked up at that, staring into Harry's tired green eyes, wondering how the man had managed to plead Draco's case for Astoria while worrying and watching over him and Weasley - bouncing his time back and forth between the three of them. But it wasn't only that, he could see in the man's face that he was struggling with the elements surrounding her. He could see that there was a part of him that cried for justice for all the dead that her hands had unwilling accomplished, he could see his fierce anger over what she had done to Draco and subsequently Weasley as well, and he could see what the sight of her mangled soul did to him. He could see it weighing heavily on his heart but he had done what he knew Draco wanted because he knew how much it meant to the blonde.

 

He did it for him, of that Draco was sure.

 

"I love you Draco." Harry whispered, his nose bumping into his, almost as if he was suddenly unsure if he was allowed to kiss him.

 

So Draco did it for him, leaning forward and pressing his lips against his in a promise filled kiss as his words echoed and stretched through the hollowness inside him.

 

****

 

Draco wasn't sure what he was doing, why he was standing in front of room 24 in the middle of the night.

 

Harry was back in Draco’s hospital room, fast asleep on his bed, his arm clutching the sheets that were no doubt still warm from Draco's recently vacated body. And he should still be there as well, under that warm and comforting embrace, but instead his bare feet were cooling quickly on the squeaky clean floor as he stared at the closed door. With a deep breath he reached out and turned the knob, pushing the silent door in and revealing the dimness inside.

 

His eyes found the bed and the shock of red hair and pale sleeping face that peaked out from under the white covers, the sheets rising and falling in even shallow breathes - looking very much as if he was teetering between solidness and the misty haze of the ghost world. His stomach clenched as he stepped inside, softly shutting the door behind him, his toes pressing into the floor as he wavered on the spot.

 

He didn't know how to feel about what had happened and his eyes wanted nothing more than to flee from the sight of the man on the bed - fighting a horrible curse that he had willing taken upon himself.

 

For him.

 

An expression of gratitude, of apology, of reprimand stuck on his tongue as he visually traced the lines of Weasley's face. But above all else he couldn't help but wonder - why? Draco knew he wasn't worth the dark magic that was pumping through his blood - trying to pull him apart from the inside out - the man should have just let Draco rot in that tunnel, he shouldn't have risked it, he should have done anything but cut himself and smear his own blood.

 

But then Harry would have done something reckless and Merlin but he couldn't even let himself think about that.

 

Moving with careful, light steps to avoid waking Granger who was curled up asleep on an uncomfortable looking cot, Draco neared the bed without any purpose other than needing to do something. Perhaps he just needed to prove to himself that Weasley was alive, that he would blink those damn twinkling, knowing eyes open and use his too big mouth to interrupt any future fights he was bound to have with Harry.

 

"Reckless Gryffindor." He whispered to the sleeping man, his voice scratching in the silent room.

 

"Recklessly heroic I think you mean." Weasley murmured in a horribly weak voice that didn't sound remotely like him, his foggy blue eyes drifting half open and startling Draco so badly he nearly jumped and cursed. "How you feeling?"

 

Draco felt an unhinged laugh bubble in his throat but he swallowed it down before it could break free as he raked a hand through his hair. Weasley was asking him how he was doing? Merlin the man looked way too close to death and yet he was looking groggily up at Draco like he was worried for him.

 

It wasn't right. None of this was.

 

"Priorities Weasley, you should be demanding things for yourself not asking after me." He admonished, finding it hard to hold his gaze, guilt swamping him.

 

Weasley just stared and Draco shifted uneasily on his feet.

 

"I'm fine." He whispered when it became clear that he was waiting for an answer, his fingers playing with the too big band of his trousers. "You look like hell."

 

"Feel like it too." Weasley gave him a slow, painful looking smile that only lifted half his mouth. "And stop looking at me like that."

 

"Like what?"

 

"Like you've killed me." The redhead closed his eyes with a sigh. "I plan to be up and running tomorrow morning."

 

Draco bit his tongue and glanced away, knowing Weasley wasn't anywhere near being able to rise from his bed and it would probably be quite awhile before he could. If he ever even would. Merlin he couldn't stomach that, didn't know how he'd ever look at any of them ever again if he had been the reason the man was crippled for life.

 

"Or at least ordering you lot to fetch me a ginormous breakfast."

 

Letting out a soft, unsteady chuckle Draco glanced back at Granger before stepping slightly closer. "Look Weasley, I..."

 

"No need."

 

"But-"

 

"Seriously Malfoy, somethings are worth it." What he didn't say was that Harry was worth it, that his friendship with the raven haired man was worth any sacrifice - and that because of Harry, Draco was now a part of that list. It made him horribly uncomfortable.

 

"Right." Draco nodded absently, tugging at his hair once more as he shut his eyes against the press of emotions. Merlin he was strung too thin for this. "Weasley -" he started but when he opened his eyes it was to find the man fast asleep, breathing in and out softly once more. "Thank you." He whispered before turning and leaving, slipping through the door as quietly as he had come in.


	23. Chapter 23

Two Years Later

 

 

The hotel room wasn't anything new, he had spent many a night over the last two years behind its door and staring awake at its ceiling.

 

It had long ago started to feel very much like repeating a hazy dream, the long journey filled with catching Portkeys and Apparating and walking, always alone, always the same steps, always in the same order - his movement’s clockwork precision. This morning was no different - blinking his dry eyes, slipping his feet into his boots, straightening the black oxford in the mirror, and looping the gray tie around his neck.

 

His fingers always lingered over the neat knot, his eyes first straying to the platinum ring on his finger and then, hesitantly, to the mark just barely visible that was etched on the inside of his wrist.

 

A round swirling pattern he could still see behind his closed eyes.

 

It had appeared slowly, taking shape almost tentatively in his flesh just days after the encounter in the tunnel. When it had finally settled - icy blue and slightly indented - it was an exact replica of the disks, the exact same marking as the one on Astoria's wrist, inches below where the scar from his Dark Mark trickled into once unmarred skin. It was all converged on his left arm in a startling order and display - the jagged scar of his sordid youth, an impossible tattoo of the one case that still pricked his heart, and the ring Harry had slipped onto his finger despite the markings above it four months ago beneath a starry sky and before a silent muggle in black and white who had no clue who Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy even were.

 

He could remember waking on the foggy morning the faint marking had first appeared, how he had just stared at it with an unsettling blankness inside until Harry stirred beside him and asked in his sleepy way what was wrong. The darker man had immediately drug him back to the hospital and had proceeded to pace around agitatedly until all the tests had been run and they had proclaimed that nothing negative had changed inside him.

 

Two years and he had learned to live with it, had learned to stop letting his eyes trace over it again and again. Two years of Harry strong arming him into visiting the hospital to make sure it wasn't seeping anything nefarious into him. Two years later and he was still well, still stable, still with the two little words - Inconclusive Damage - decorating the bottom of his chart each and every time like a mockery.

 

He was resigned to never knowing the damage Astoria had wrecked inside him. It was a nameless thing that festered silently most days, something that seemed to echo hollowly if he stared too long at the mark connecting him to her, but otherwise it lay dormant. A visual reminder for him to carry with him all his days, making sure he would never forget his erased memories and the outcome that had come from those invisible steps.

 

Two years and it hadn't changed one little bit.

 

Brushing his hand down his tie, Draco stepped from his room and strode down the hall. His feet knew the route by heart, they maneuvered the crowded street of Brussels as his mind wandered elsewhere, leading him to the same unassuming building with gray concrete walls and steel doors as they did this same time every month. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Draco twisted his fingers in a gentle hook and curve - the wards shifting uneasily over him as he stepped through the door without pushing it open.

 

He smiled at the witch who knew him by sight behind the single desk in the empty receiving room and signed his name to the appropriate documents, nodding at her as she handed him a key and lowered the wards on the door beside her. It clicked heavily as he pulled it open and disappeared inside, a familiar unease settling in the pit of his stomach and making his hand twitch as he fingered his ring. He had walked down this hall yesterday, just like he had so many times before that, only to reach the sixth door on the right and be denied entrance. Which left him to spend an hour speaking with the head Healer before wasting the day away in his hotel room - flipping through channels on the muggle telly, his eyes a glassy daze as he watched without really seeing and wishing that he hadn't so adamantly refused Harry's idea of getting a pair of those muggle mobile telephones so he could speak with him.

 

He never knew what these trips would yield and on several occasions he had returned home sullen and depressed - Harry finding him at their kitchen table nursing a glass of gin that the Auror typically had to coax from his grasp. Then Draco would blink and fall into the arms that always seemed to be there and spend the rest of the night erasing the emptiness with him. If it bothered Harry that Draco needed to go every single month, if it weighed on him that it only seemed to feed the sorrow in his heart, he didn't express it. Nor did he ever mention that those were the nights Draco often found himself begging for Harry to take him, to fill him - Harry always tenderer than he demanded he be yet always, somehow, just what he needed to feel righted again.

 

With a bated breath, he knocked, his hand pressing flat against the wood as he waited.

 

"Come in."

 

The voice was small but clear and Draco felt relief flood him as he fitted the key into the lock and turned it - magic once more washing over him as the wards shifted and dropped, allowing him to push the door open.

 

"You brought the sun with you." Astoria murmured as he stepped into the room, her back to him as she stared out the lone window that was currently showing a break in the thick clouds to let thick streams of yellow light filter down.

 

He took a moment to look her over before answering, his gaze drifting down her still slim body that had been slowly filling out to a healthier figure during her stay in the psychiatric hospital. She wore a green dress today that stopped at her knees, flowing off one shoulder like her frame was still slightly too unsteady to keep the fabric up, her feet bare just as they always were. Her blonde hair had been chopped short, ragged around her ears, making her look even younger and smaller than she was. But she was standing, she was talking, she sounded...present and really that was enough to go home and smile at Harry when he asks how it went.

 

"You look well." He stated calmly, still very careful with his movement and speech. She was extremely skittish and had become even more so as her therapy worked through her deep and earth shattering wounds - bringing to light things she didn't want to think on or remember.

 

"Thank you." She turned towards him, her green eyes looking lighter than the last time he had seen her. "So do you." She tilted her head, studying him silently for a moment. "Dr. Emma said you've been asking questions."

 

Draco nodded, threading his fingers together behind his back. "I have."

 

"What sort?" She walked towards him with gliding feet, stopping at the look on his face. "You've been asking me too?" She asked quietly, pointing to herself.

 

He nodded again, wishing to Merlin that her memory wasn't so splintered, that she wouldn't slip so easily into dream worlds and nightmares and forget where she was, who she was, and what she was doing. Her therapist had said she was getting better, that every month their seeing improvement but it was times like these that it was hard to remember that she used to be so much worse. "It's alright Astoria, I've been gone for a while." He reassured her as he saw the familiar stirrings of panic flit across her face.

 

"You should come more." She stated, like she always did whenever she let him through and remembered where she was.

 

"I can't, remember?"

 

Her nod was slow and thoughtful. "Right because...because you don't live here...I miss you."

 

He smiled and sat slowly in the stiff chair by her bed. "Did you get the chocolate I sent you?"

 

"Yes." She beamed, making her lips look pale and thin and cheeks shallow but her eyes lit up like a child at the holidays.

 

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." He flexed his fingers as he debated his next words, weighing them heavily on his tongue. "How have you been doing?" He finally settled on, deciding it best to start as simply as he could and see how she would take it.

 

She frowned and sank down onto the bed, her bare feet kicking at the floor. "Dr. Emma says I'm doing better." She folded her dainty hands in her lap as her frown grow in distress. "But I think she's lying."

 

"Why?"

 

"I...I think I tried to hurt someone the other day but I don't know why...I don't want to talk about it."

 

"Alright we don't have to." Draco smiled softly as she hugged herself, drawing into herself on the bed in a defensive position. "What would you like to talk about?"

 

"We have the same mark." She whispered, her thumb rubbing over the swirling pattern on her wrist.

 

"Yes." He answered, this wasn't the first time she had pointed it out, wasn't the first time she had started opening up about what had happened before clamping shut and turning despondent. But there was always something about the way she brought it up, almost like she was as desperate to know its meaning as Draco was. Except this felt different, she was looking at the mark on his wrist with a strange glint in her eyes, almost like she could...remember. The idea made his pulse jump and his throat dry up, his heart picking up at the smallest hope that he would come away with some actually answers this visit. "It's a replica of the disks. Do you remember them?"

 

She nodded, turning her head into her knees as she drew her legs up onto the bed. "Yes, I hear them screaming sometimes."

 

"Who?" He asked though he feared he knew the answer already.

 

"I killed people. Dr. Emma says I killed them during blackouts where I didn't know what I was doing but I can hear them at night sometimes, like their clawing at me, waiting for me to join them. Sometimes their even louder than him."

 

A muscle twitched under his eye like it usually did when she brought up Jenner Thornbee, her captor, the man who tormented her for years. Dr. Emma - Astoria's therapist - had disclosed to him that the man had forced her into an Aeternum Bond shortly after her capture. That he inserted cruel and unusual twists into the bonding that in affect made her lose all sense of herself for months on end, living in perpetual horror and fear as the man who called himself her husband bent her to his will. On odd and unpredictable occasions she would speak a little about the disks, vague words that seemed to hint on the fact that the man had used them on her for some purpose that Astoria couldn't articulate but desperately wanted to.

 

But the scar tissue on the inside of her mouth was extensive, almost like he had stuck them to her flesh, ripped them out, and repeated the process over a dozen times.

 

Thornbee broke her so thoroughly that even now, years after his death, she could still hear him in her head - still felt his will pulling on her. Draco had wept in his empty hotel room the day he learned of it, his thumb pressing over the mark on his wrist. It made sense to him then, more than it ever had before, why Astoria had sought to use that particular bond with him - she must had figured that the only way to erase the one with Thornbee was to enact a knew one with someone else.

 

Someone kind. Someone who could save her. Someone she had loved since she was a little girl.

 

"Astoria -"

 

"I can feel you sometimes too." She said quietly, looking up and meeting his gaze full on for the first time in months. "On bad days, I'm not allowed to leave my room so I duck under the covers and think of you and then...the emptiness floats away...like your right beside me..."

 

Draco swallowed and shifted forward a little, feeling something tug at the back of his naval at her description, watching as she played her fingers over her marking. There was something familiar about the way she spoke of feeling him and he couldn't help but think of all the times he had found himself suddenly drifting, his thoughts seeping, his happiness and contentment floating away to be replaced by numbness...emptiness...desolation. He had chalked it up to what he had gone through, had decided it was connected to his forgotten actions and the reality of what happened to her - but perhaps it was more, perhaps she really could feel him.

 

She seemed to be connected to the disks in a very primal way. She had confessed that they were a part of Thornbee's dark artifacts collection but perhaps over the years they had morphed from their original purpose - becoming an extension of the small part of her soul that was still her own, that wasn't tainted by him. It wouldn't have been the first time he had seen something like that happen, especially in cases where emotions ran high and someone’s magic was wild and uncontrolled. It was perfectly plausible in an abstract sort of way, it gave an explanation to why the disks were found on the dead bodies when she still couldn't remember doing it or even why. If they were connected to her then it made sense why they had housed her memories - why the one left at the hospital had brought him to her despite the fact that she couldn't fathom how she had managed to do that.

 

And it wasn't just her - no one had been able to figure out how she had manipulated it, not him or Luckwood or the team of Unspeakables... it was a mystery now labeled neatly and forgotten by all except a handful.

 

It was like the ancient things were doing what she wanted to but could not do - even slowing her heart until near death to keep her from killing anymore on the morning she woke as Olivia and realized what she had been doing.

 

Perhaps the disks had become her savior through it all, perhaps she had cried for him enough that they had forged a way to connect them even now - the botched bonding opening him up enough for the unknown magic inside them to do as it willed. He had a feeling Harry would crackle with rage when he found out and he would no doubt be forced into another trip to see the Healer, the information whipping off the man's tongue.

 

He touched his mark and smiled faintly, his other hand reaching out to press lightly over hers. "Next time don't wait till it gets bad alright?" Having a name for the seemingly random depression and hollowness made all the difference and Draco figured he could live with it if he knew each time that it hit him it was because Astoria needed his strength - needed to feel him near to drown out the madman in her head. It was the least he could do for her and Harry would just have to bloody accept it.

 

"Thank you." She smiled and weaved her fingers through his - the touch startling considering she typically shied violently away from firm contact. "Your questions...what are they?" She asked after taking a deep, shaking breath like she didn't want to actually get the words out. 

 

"Are you sure?"

 

She nodded and stared at their hands.

 

Knowing he most likely had only one shot at this, one question to ask, before she huddled back into herself and went despondent, he shifted through the mountain of questions in his head for the most pressing. It wasn't hard to find, it was the one that plagued him every single day. "The night you were taken...I was coming back from somewhere but I don't...I can't remember anything." He paused and slipped his eyes shut, seeing himself striding down the Slytherin dormitories so very long ago. "Was I...did I...?"

 

"You're not meant to remember." She sounded uncharacteristically strong and certain, her tone forcing his eye back open and up to hers.

 

"Why? Do you know who oblivated me?"

 

She looked away before nodding. "Your mother." 

 

Draco had spent no small amount of time over the past two years trying to drudge up his memory, thinking up theories, and trying to find any possible explanation. But never did he once image his memories had been taken from him by his mother, his father maybe, but never his mother. The confession rattled inside his brain, turning the possibilities of why from evil and nefarious to stomach churning dread. "Why?" He whispered, raising a hand to rub against his brow.

 

"He was upset about Theodore...how you killed him instead of her. You and Pansy were ordered to carry something out in recompense...I was collateral." 

 

He felt stuck to his chair, his veins pumping lead and his head splitting, his worst fear in all of this coming to pass. He should have known that it was all connected to that one night he took his friends life. It was a debilitating blow to realize he hadn't ended up saving anything by doing it - Pansy was still damaged and Astoria had apparently paid the price for his decision. "What was the assignment?" He didn't want to know, didn't want to find out if his hands were even more bloodied then he ever knew. How would he come back from such a revelation? How could he ever face Astoria or Pansy or Harry or himself ever again with such knowledge?

 

No matter what he did, it seems he really was only a puppet, and now he was about to find out how tangled those strings really were.

 

"I don't know...but I remember you two whispering about it. You weren't going to do it, you were going to figure something else out. Then they came for me and a week later I watched you get dragged into his house...bloody and twisted...you looked at me through black eyes. I knew then that you hadn't gone through with what they wanted and that I was...but I was glad." A tear slipped down her cheek as she spoke with a far off look, her voice so clear, almost like she was whole again. "My husb-Jenner, demanded an explanation and you were just about to say something when your mother stepped up, looking harder than I've ever seen her. You went blank, your father and Jenner started screaming at her...you didn't recognize me after that..."

 

"Astoria I'm sorry." His throat felt tight, his eyes stinging, a rushing that was loud and ringing in his ears, because it had been his fault - it didn't matter if it was his intention or not - that she had suffered as she had. She became the plaything for a twisted piece of shit all because he had decided to play at being the hero. He felt like he was shattering, breaking apart bit by bit, his back slumped as he clasped her hand in both of his. "I'm so sorry."

 

"Don't cry." She tipped his chin up, looking into his stormy gray eyes as her own took on a glassy sheen that always proceeded her slipping away. "You're my sunshine, always and forever."

 

****

 

Draco missed his portkey home.

 

A letter from Harry sat unopened on the hotel room desk, his own quickly scrawled, one line note stating that he was fine winging its way towards England between the claws of an unassuming barn owl.

 

He lay on his bed, eyes closed, platinum ring rolling between his thumb and pointer finger.

 

He figured he had about one more day before Harry came bursting his door open. One more day to figure out the mess rolling around in his head and heart. His chest ached and he clenched his teeth - who the fuck was he kidding? He didn't think he'd ever find his way through the sludge inside him. At least he now knew what the inconclusive damage was - simply put it was a gigantic hole in his heart that seeped nothing but black poison, destroying all he touched, reminding him exactly what he was. The problem was that now that he knew what it was, now that he could see it, he didn't know how to look away from it.

 

He was a coward. A puppet. A selfish fuck. How he had managed to deny it for so long, to fool himself into thinking he was anything but was almost laughable now.

 

"For fucks sake, not even locked. If I didn't know better, I would think you wanted to be robbed and murdered by muggle thugs."

 

"Go home Pansy." Draco grumbled, his hand moving to drop his wedding ring on the bedside table. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone showed up but he hadn't expected Pansy and in all honesty he didn't know how to make his eyes open and look over at her - afraid she would read all that he had learned on his face and that it would shatter her tentative hold on life. Merlin he could barely handle himself right now, he had no idea how to navigate her as well.

 

"Gladly, whenever you’re ready dear."

 

"I'm extending my trip."

 

"So I've noticed. Or actually I hadn't really noticed you were gone at all until Potter popped up yesterday all flustered asking if I'd heard from you."

 

Draco grunted in response.

 

"I, being such an amazingly good friend, covered your arse and said you'd mentioned you would be gone a few days longer this time and didn't he remember? He glared at me all suspicious like but after a minute or two the gullible man seemed to take me at my word."

 

"Then why are you here?" Draco focused his gaze on the gray ceiling, his hand curled over his heart that hadn't stopped thumping painfully since Astoria spilled her story.

 

"Because you’re late and your ignoring that intolerable husband of yours, all while you're on your trip to see that mental woman. Doesn't stack up well you see... not to mention you look positively horrid. Honestly is there no shower available? Also well...Potter did look a bit...manic...and worried. Very worried actually." She sounded worried herself as she trailed off, the emotion hidden well beneath layers of snappish attitude but Draco knew her too well to be fooled.

 

"I'll be home soon." He said pointedly, ignoring the little squeeze in his chest at the mention of Harry. Merlin he missed the man, missed his warmth, especially now when he felt like a pillar of ice and desperately needed him to melt it for him. But there was a pang that he couldn't ignore that kept him from going home, that kept him from firecalling, a pain that was keeping him in an unappealing hotel room instead of returning to those strong arms and soft lips.

 

A pain that kept him staring at the festering hole Astoria had uncovered.

 

"So let’s just skip this back and forth shall we?" Pansy snapped, sitting heavily on the bed next to his legs, the crappy mattress dipping towards her. "Somethings wrong, now tell me what it is so we can leave this infested little hole and get lunch."

 

"I'm fine."

 

"Bullshit."

 

"Pansy." He sighed tiredly, closing his eyes once more.

 

"Alright look, your reminding me too much of seventh year and let’s be honest, I can't handle that. So sit the fuck up and look at me or so help me Draco I'm going to send for Blaise and Potter and we'll forcibly drag you back home where you belong."

 

With a glare Draco did as he was told, swinging his legs over the edge and letting his gaze skirt just shy of landing on Pansy's chocolate orbs. Dragging a hand through his rumpled hair, he waited silently for her to continue because Merlin help him but he had no clue what to say.

 

"Good. Now I'm assuming something happened with Astoria?" She asked and Draco nodded, staring down at the round mark on his wrist. "Is she alright?" Again he nodded and felt her eyes searching him intently. "Did she tell you something about what happened to her?"

 

"Yes."

 

"About your missing memories?"

 

Draco had no idea how she caught on so fast, how her mind went right to where he was suffering, it had always been an uncanny ability of hers. Over the last few days he gone back every day to visit the young woman and though she was never as lucid as she had been that day, she was always happy to see him - her smile twisting the knife in his gut. He didn't know why she still loved him, why she clung to his memory when she knew it was him that unwillingly put her in the situation that had ruined her. He didn't know how to cope with it, didn't know what to make of his own mother taking his memories.

 

Because that meant it had to be something really awful, truly terrible - something that she knew he wouldn't have been able to live with. Something that may have caused his death or would perhaps have just turned him fully into a replica of his father. Astoria had said he had been beaten that day and was about to do something right before his mind was taken and molded. But what? What had he been trying to accomplish? He couldn't help but pray over and over again that it was good, that he had been trying to reverse her situation even at the cost of his own life.

 

But he couldn't know that and he never would. It was the unknown that was driving him to the point of insanity.

 

Perhaps that was another reason he couldn't return home yet. Perhaps he needed to pay some sort of penance before Harry tried to wash away a portion of his guilt. Or maybe he just needed to cling to it, holding it to his chest over the hole like a shredded bandage, trying to smother the echoing word that bounced around his head.

 

Coward.

 

"Yes, I'm -"

 

"I don't want to hear it." Pansy declared, her back rigid, her tongue clicking. "Because it does not matter Draco. Whatever you did or didn't do it was years ago, over a decade, and you were a child amidst a war. We all made mistakes, we all suffered, her I'll admit more than most but what good will holing your life away do? Will it make her better? Will it bring back the dead? Will it assuage your guilt? No. It will only kill you and then where will we all be? She'll be left alone because no one else ever visits her, I'll die of boredom, and I think it might actually make Potter lose his shit to the point of him winding up in the room next to hers. Is that what you want? Is your guilt really that destructive and worth it?"

 

"It's not that simple." He felt torn, her words wanting so desperately to make themselves home over the raw pain and guilt inside him, but it seemed wrong to let it go, not when Astoria was still so wounded.

 

"Like fuck it isn't. War breeds hard decisions that haunt us, you don't think I know that? You think I don't think about you and Theo every day? You don't think I feel anguish over what you lost because of me? It kills me Draco, it hurts more than I can bear some mornings but do you know what I do? I get the fuck out of bed, put on a dazzling outfit, and come annoy the shit out of you. Because that's life, moving on from our mistakes. Would you have me waste away instead? Because I could, it wouldn't be hard believe me." Her gaze was hard, her cheeks wet from silent tears, her small hand gripping his thigh harshly.

 

Draco stared back at her, wondering how he never noticed Pansy's strength before. He had seen her as a victim he needed to protect for so long, she had always been the fragile flower that he needed to step carefully around, she had never been like this before - blazing with a fierceness to be more. It was in that moment that he realized that by making her into the person he needed to be always ready to protect he had been tucking his own pain and needs away. He had been spending their friendship apologizing for years on end, convincing himself that he was doing it for her.

 

It was an almost cruel realization to find that he had been the one stunting them both and not her. She was ready to move on, to try and let go, and he was keeping them grounded.

 

Astoria had called him her sunshine on more than one occasion and each time Draco had mourned it for hours afterwards. Perhaps it was time to stop grieving and apologizing and forgive himself - for all their sakes. Though that was far easier said than done and Draco honestly had no clue had to go about doing that.

 

"Harry...?" He closed his eyes, unable to voice the rest of his fear, his chest throbbing.

 

"Won't leave you." She shifted closer, her head falling on his shoulder. "And neither will I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big jump of time, I know, but there's a reason - mainly i don't think it's possible for any sort of closure without it, not with everything that they've been through and really this chapter and the next one (the last one!) are really one big epilogue.
> 
> Anyway hope it wasn't too jarring and that you enjoyed it :)


	24. Chapter 24

The sky was black with sparkling dots of light glowing steadily high above, a wash of candle light and conjured flame spilling out the open door set regally atop the slopping staircase. He could feel the warmth seeping from inside to meet with the cool air of the night, could hear the chatter and laughter that predominated the large estate. The place was vibrating with carefree joviality, beckoning to all those loitering outside with its welcoming embrace.

 

 

Draco's stomach twisted, his hand curling around the note he had found stuck to his kitchen door upon returning home a few hours ago. Merlin he hated Ministry fundraisers, hated all the false smiles and forced small talk. Hated the sneers on people's faces whose eyes still darted down to his left forearm before greeting him, hated the too stiff welcomes that tightened some peoples voices when they spied his hand threaded through with Harry's.

 

 

The food was their only redeeming factor, it was bloody exquisite, not that Draco had any current plans to partake in the masterfully crafted cuisine. No, he had one goal for the evening, one thing he needed to do before retreating back home, he just prayed that finding the man in a no doubt ill-chosen set of dress robes wouldn't take long.

 

 

Slipping the note into his pocket, Draco tipped his chin up and strode forward, ascending the steps quickly and gliding through the door with barely a nod in the doorkeepers’ direction. He felt edgy with nerves, the suffocating press of bodies and heat hitting him suddenly and forcefully the moment he stepped foot in the central ballroom. Glass chandeliers, sparkling like millions of diamonds, speckled the ceiling, the walls draped with lace and greenery, crystal goblets and porcelain plates smattering the tables and gracing the hands of dozens of witches and wizards idling about - everything picture perfect, elegant and reeking of money.

 

 

When he was young his mother used to throw parties similar in size and taste. He could remember nicking the flowers from Pansy's hair and weaving through the people that had seemed so tall and massive to his small self before stealing away into the gardens, dropping into his favored hiding spot by the peacocks until Pansy inevitably cried to her mother and his came to drag him out. Narcissa always made him apologize with a gentlemanly bow and pay his penance by dancing with the black haired girl until his feet hurt.

 

 

He had always thought his mother to be the epitome of grace and elegance. Regal. She had a quick temper behind her guarded eyes, a gentle touch when he always expected the opposite, and a willfulness that she kept leashed back in appeasement of her husband - all except for a handful of times, each time her tempered flared from its cage more startling than the time before. She had died several years ago, a wasting illness that took her not long after his father had passed away. But not once had she hinted at the hidden past he was just starting to see, never did she even begin to touch on it, she had kept it tucked away with her in her deathbed, had looked in his eyes hours before she was taken and had simply smiled her thin lipped smile.

 

 

Narcissa had taken his memory and by stilling her tongue until her spirit left had ensured that he would never know fully what had transpired. He had thought unceasingly over the past several days why she had done that, why she had stolen something so big from him and never gave it back. And now he thought that maybe he understood, if only a little.

 

 

The revelation had come when he and Pansy had went to Theo's grave after leaving Brussels. They stood quietly, hand-in-hand before the bleak headstone until the sun dipped low and dissipated all together, casting them in the moon's luminous rays. It was the first time he had done so and his feet felt strange on the patch of earth before his grave, almost like he was trespassing on a place he had no right to be. But it was also...settling. He had breathed his silent apology and quietly let the dead boy drift away, almost like he had been keeping his ghost tucked inside him and was finally setting him free.

 

 

He knew he would still hurt over it, that he would never forget, but that was what he needed. What he and Pansy both needed.

 

 

Then they had stayed the night together, curled up on a single bed in some unknown hotel room in the next town over, talking softly in a way that reminded him strongly of seventh year. Except there was no more fear and terror. Pansy was fine, he would be fine, and Astoria was getting better.

 

 

Before drifting off to sleep Draco had thought back to his mother, his mind lingering for some reason on the soft, tiny lines that had etched themselves into the corners of her eyes and mouth, remembering once more that immediate punishment hadn't come the night he had killed Theo in Pansy's place. But he could remember the sunken, hollow gaze of his mother the next morning and the limp she tried to hide in her flowing gowns. And it clicked all at once, sudden and sharp, stealing his breath away. Because punishment had been dealt that night, just not to him.

 

 

She had stood in his place like he had stood in Pansy's and it seemed like maybe she had stood for him again that night he had been dragged into Thornbee's estate. Perhaps she had stolen his memories because she had seen what he had seen in Pansy's eyes when she tried to whisper the killing curse, perhaps she knew her son was about to breathe his last. Perhaps she had done it out of duty...or love.

 

 

Perhaps she had saved him and as that thought floated through him Draco found that the sense of betrayal and desperation slowly started to ease away, a steady trickle that would take a long time to be fully eradicated but it was a start. Because he understood that, he knew that feeling all too well when looking upon something you loved dearly and had to choose whether to let life run its course and take them or to step in and do something.

 

 

He and his mother had both decided to intervene, both had reaped terrible consequences, yet like Pansy said - it had been a war, horrible things had happened, but he couldn't waste away because of them. He wouldn't fix anything by breaking himself and wallowing in the pit.

 

 

"Oi, now what do we have here?"

 

 

Draco snapped out his stupor at the laughing voice, his head turning quickly to catch sight of Weasley limping towards him, his weight leaning heavily on the simple oak cane in his hand. "Still letting riffraff like you in then I see." Draco drawled, a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

 

 

It had taken Weasley a long time before he was well enough to leave the hospital after taking in the curse from the blood-arch and there had been months that the Healers were uncertain if he would ever be able to have a normal life again - a fact that the man liked to tack onto the story whenever he retold it with bravado to anyone who would listen with a smile on his face and his hand clapping Draco's back like they were the oldest of friends.

 

 

Even still Draco had a hard time forgetting that it had been a horribly slow and difficult recovery and he still couldn't fathom why Weasley and Granger held no ill will towards him because of it - his guilt for being the reason he was in such a state only compounding atop all the rest. But the redhead had slowly regained his strength, growing healthier and stronger as time wore on, and now all that was left to show for the curse was his damaged leg that left him with a limp and a bright red scar on his palm where he had touched the arch.

 

 

That and the rather cushy new job he had landed because of his heroically sustained injuries.

 

 

"Riffraff eh? Well takes one to know one." Weasley let out a sigh as he lent his back against the wall beside Draco, his face grimacing as he shifted his stiff leg. "Reckon it's going to rain later."

 

 

"Oh? Your bum leg giving you the inside weather report again?"

 

 

Weasley nodded. "Yup, it's a fucking bitch having the power to tell which way the clouds will blow let me tell you."

 

 

"A true burden." Draco smirked before letting his eyes wander over the crowd, frowning when he failed to spot the stormy head he wanted.

 

 

"So I hear you've been AWOL." His fingers tapped on the rounded head of the cane, his blue eyes slanting causally over to Draco with a light of curiosity.

 

 

"I extended my trip."

 

 

"Ah, yeah, I heard something like that floating around. Though typically you taking a few days longer doesn't send Harry into a terrified fit."

 

 

Draco sucked in a breath and held it, letting the air burn sharply against his lungs as guilt assaulted him once more. He had firecalled Harry the morning after Pansy had showed up in his hotel room but it hadn't been in a private setting and all he had managed to convey was that he was sorry for causing worry and that he would be home in a few days’ time - telling him to keep an eye out for a letter Draco had spent the entire evening the night before composing. In it he had spilled everything. He told him about his link with Astoria and his need to keep it in place, he told him about what had apparently transpired all those years ago and how it had resulted in Astoria's capture - the ink blotching and blooming as he scratched the quill across the paper with far too much emotion that made his hands shake. He told him about the guilt that ate at him and the hole in his heart that threatened him.

 

 

He told him about the dreams he'd been having of Harry crushing him to dust as Astoria watched - his quill leaving the sentence hanging, a half admission of his deeply ingrained fear.

 

 

He wasn't all too sure that it made proper sense but it needed to be done because Draco knew he would never be able to get it all out and in the open otherwise and Harry had a right to know. He needed Harry to know.

 

 

He dragged a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck as he rubbed at the stiff muscles there before nodding slowly. "I had some things I needed to sort out."

 

 

"And did you?" Weasley pressed, his tone taking on the protective edge that he rarely heard from him but that came out on occasion - the most memorable being the night before he bound himself officially to Harry, his ears still ringing from the screw with my best mate and I'll fucking gut you speech that the man had given him before shooting him a sloppy grin and congratulating him. Oddly enough, hearing it now, knowing that Harry had to have shared at least a portion of what was going on with his fellow Gryffindor, sent a calming wave through him. Almost like finding his footing again after slipping around on ice for days.

 

 

He may be aching from all that he learned, he may have a hole he wasn't sure how to fix inside him, he may be terrified that one day Harry will turn to him in disgust with the realization that Draco wasn't who he thought he was, but it didn't matter. He needed Harry and he wouldn't hide from that ever again. "Yes."

 

 

Weasley smiled widely, his white teeth flashing. "Then I suggest you try the topmost balcony."

 

 

Before Draco could formulate a response the man was limping away with a wave over his head in his direction, his damn eyes twinkling knowingly again. He watched him go, watched him find his wife and press a kiss to her bushy haired head, watched as he easily joined whatever conversation she had been having and laughed happily.

 

 

He smiled to no one and wondered when in the world he had grown so fond of the blasted redhead and his drooling son and bookish wife. Harry really was making him soft.

 

 

His heart skipped a beat at that last thought as his gaze slid away and over to the concealed stairway that he knew led to the upper levels of the estate. His skin pricked with heat as he picked his way through the crowd, purposely ignoring any calls of his name, his feet moving just a tad too fast to be fashionable and acceptable. But he hardly cared, now that he was there he felt drawn to his husband with a devastating need, his throat going dry as he ascended staircase after staircase. His fingers deftly undid the buttons on his robe until it fell open around him, letting air rush against him in an attempt to cool down, his hand twisting at the knotted tie at his throat until he managed to work it down a few inches. What the hell was he thinking wearing a three piece suit?

 

 

Merlin he was nervous.

 

 

He paused with his hand on the foggy glass door leading out to the balcony, collecting himself as much as he could before pushing it open with the softest squeak to accompany it. He took a step and stopped, his eyes landing on Harry. He had his back to Draco, his elbows resting on the low wrought iron and stone wall, a tumbler half filled with clear liquid held loosely in his hand and dangling over the edge. His shoulders were relaxed, his free hand tangled in his hair and twisting through his curls like he always did when he was thinking, his black dress robes discarded and bunched up haphazardly over the railing beside him.

 

 

The blasted man had come to a fancy gala wearing his tattered house work jeans and an old black tee-shirt underneath his expertly tailored and imported robes.

 

 

Draco couldn't stop the grin that overtook his lips and hardly noticed the butterflies that attacked his stomach at the sight of it.

 

 

"I got an interesting report today." Harry spoke softly but clearly, tipping his head minutely until he could catch Draco's gaze out of the corner of his eye, his mouth parted and stuck between a smile and a frown.

 

 

"Did you?" Draco took a step forward, his hands finding their way inside his trousers pockets.

 

 

Harry held his eye, lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip before barely moving his head in a nod. "Seems someone set the tunnels on fire."

 

 

Draco didn't reply, he just glanced down and to the left for a split second, Harry's lip caught between his teeth when he looked back up. After visiting Theo's grave Draco had sent Pansy back home the next day and then went to the lake and stood outside the tunnel, the blood-arch sealing the mouth from view gone forever. Astoria had spent eleven years losing herself in their depths, her horror and pain written into the very stone, breathing the details of her life. With a set jaw, Draco had lifted his wand and pointed it straight ahead. He knew she hated the tunnel's more than anything, they were the staple of her nightmares, and with a mutter and flick Draco had sent a roaring fire blazing down it's slopping corridor - unstable flame consuming the rooms beyond and licking the stone clean of her echoing screams.

 

 

Then he had stood and watched until he was certain it had all been incinerated before he turned to walk along the lake, his fingers grazing over Harry's Apparation bracelet that he hadn't been able to take off since that day he'd nicked it. He sat on the water's edge with the heat of the fire behind him and the coolness of the water before him and felt something in him shift. He was moving in the right direction, washing away the past with flame, and as the night wore on Draco found himself itching to go home. But he stayed until the moon was high, until the magical heat was gone, until the sun had lifted once more and he had run his hands over the charred black stone of the tunnels that were now silent of torment.

 

 

Harry turned fully until he was leaning back against the stone, strings of music rising up from the gardens below and filling the quiet balcony. "They want me to investigate it. Arson and all that."

 

 

"And will you?" Draco wavered on his spot, his feet fidgeting, uncertain if he should continue on his journey out onto the balcony.

 

 

"Nah, too much paperwork I reckon."

 

 

Letting out a breathy, nervous laugh, Draco wobbled on his heels. "I got your note."

 

 

"Draco."

 

 

"Mhmm?" Glancing up Draco felt heat rush through him as his eyes landed on Harry's open face, Merlin he had missed him.

 

 

"You're home?"

 

 

He wasn't sure if it was the way Harry asked, or the way he tipped his head and looked uncertain if only for a split second, or perhaps it was the wind that blew gently and made Harry lift his hand and brush a curl back from his eyes - bumping his glasses and setting them crooked on his nose - but that one little question seemed to fill him up completely. It washed though him, a warmth spreading out from his chest into his fingers and toes, his gaze dropping to the matching platinum ring on Harry's finger.

 

 

"If I'm welcome." He whispered. He had seen his letter, open and clearly read a few times over sitting on Harry's desk in their study when he had went home and he held himself still as he waited for an answer. Harry knew the depths of Draco’s misery, of his past, he knew all of him, and now it was up to him to decide if he still wanted him or not.

 

 

Harry took a long drink, set his glass down on the low stone wall, and walked forward - snatching the tie Draco had been loosening compulsively up the stairs and tugging sharply on it. "Don't ever do that again." He muttered, his eyes narrowed as he drew Draco in close, his free hand coming up to grasp Draco's chin. "You are a stupid as all fuck nutter Draco Malfoy if you think for one minute that I could ever leave you. I'm not a blind fool, I know who you are, I know things happened that you can't stand, I know you'll never let that girl go completely. But I didn't marry you because I thought it would be easy, I bloody love you and that's not going to change no matter how hard you push, no matter how many things you uncover about the past. So don't you dare start making those damn boxes in your head again."

 

 

"I don't want to." Draco closed his eyes, breathed in deep and grasped the back of Harry's head - his fingers curling tightly in his hair with one hand.

 

 

"You love me?" Harry asked and Draco screwed his eyes shut tighter as the faintest sound of laughter floated up towards them.

 

 

"More than I can bear at times." He answered truthfully.

 

 

"Then trust that I won't ever turn on you." Harry murmured and the touch of his lips to his wasn't light or chaste, it was desperate and off center and warm and hot and so bloody perfect.

 

 

His hand dropped to press into the curve of Harry's neck, forcing him to open wider, to bend into him - the other reaching down to grasp the man’s arse through the soft, paint splattered jeans he wore. Even as he took control of the kiss, Harry's fingers tightening on his tie and curling around his neck, Draco felt like he was the one being bent, he felt like he was completely at Harry's mercy - each sound he managed to pull from the other man fanning the flame and driving away everything else. His pulse thundered, his head spun, Harry's mouth tasting like gin and limes - a drink Harry never indulged in but ordered on instinct for Draco whenever they went out.

 

 

Draco had been gone for over a week longer than he should have been and Harry had been home, worrying, and drinking the blondes drink. And now he was grasping Draco so tightly, moaning quietly - having already forgiven him even though Draco wasn't sure he deserved it.

 

 

"Harry." Draco panted as he broke the kiss, his fingers pressing into the side of Harry's neck hard until the man's head tipped back further. "Let’s go home." He whispered into his ear, licking the shell and tugging on the lobe with his teeth. "I want to make it up to you properly."

 

 

"How?" Harry whimpered, pressing forward into Draco's body.

 

 

Scrapping his teeth down the side of Harry's throat, Draco licked his way back up before capturing his lips once more for a brief but heady kiss. "However you want, whatever you want."

 

 

The grin was slow and languid to form on Harry's wet lips and Draco could only dumbly follow as the man started walking backwards, tugging on Draco's tie like a leash. He stopped with his arse against the balcony's stone railing, a look sparking in his green irises that usually proceeded indecent displays of public affection. Draco had assumed that being in an actual relationship with the man would have eradicated his exhibitionist tendencies but it hadn't taken him long to realize that he had been sorely mistaken on that front.

 

 

Harry hadn't been lying when he said he liked people knowing about them, liked the thrill of the possibility of getting caught. Over the last two years Harry had given him numerous afternoon blowjobs down rarely used Ministry corridors, had spent many a times biting his tongue to keep from screaming behind Draco's unwarded office door and was the reason Draco's desk wasn't nearly as sturdy as it had once been. Then there was his memorable birthday were Harry had actually slipped onto his lap while sitting at a booth in the back of a club and fucked himself silly with the bright lights flashing above them and the music thumping all around them.

 

 

"Are the gardens still full?" Harry quipped an eyebrow, his gaze glued to Draco's, his fingers twisting through the black fabric of Draco's tie.

 

 

"Reasonably." Draco answered after peaking over his shoulder and looking down at the smattering of people milling about far below. "Why?"

 

 

"Because you're going to fuck me on this balcony and I want to know how quiet I have to be." His free had dropped down to brush against Draco's crotch, his palm pressing hard and a smirk curving his lips as the blondes prick started to swell on contact. "And I want it hard, I want you to make it so I can't walk back out the door without everyone knowing what we were doing up here."

 

 

"Your boss is down there Harry." Draco swallowed the thick lump in his throat, heat flushing over his skin and his cock pulsing in his pants already.

 

 

"I don't give a fuck." Harry curled his fingers and squeezed, a broken groan breaking out from Draco's throat. "This week as been hell and you're going to remind us both how amazing we are together. Now get on your knees."

 

 

Draco didn't even think twice before dropping to the cold, stone floor, his mouth already watering as he watched Harry's hand rubbing over his own crotch - his fingers plucking the buttons open one by one. "God Harry." He groaned unabashedly as the man's prick bobbed free, the threadbare jeans getting pushed haphazardly down Harry's thighs. He stifled a grunt as Harry grasped his hair and kept him from moving forward, the Auror's free hand grasping his own cock and moving up and down the shaft slowly.

 

 

"Want to suck me?"

 

 

"Yes." Draco croaked. It wasn't often that Harry was like this, the man typically the one who wanted Draco to take charge and mold him to however he wanted him. But Draco couldn't help the cloud of lust that seized him whenever his husband took control like this, could only feel his arousal rise dangerously whenever Harry used him as he saw fit.

 

 

"Open your mouth." Harry's gaze was dark, swirling with desire when Draco locked eyes with him, his mouth dropping open and his tongue poking out just past his bottom lip - waiting. Tugging on his hair, Harry brought his face closer, his hand guiding his prick until the damp head lightly touched Draco's tongue. "Stay like that." Harry commanded as he moved his prick back and forth, smearing Draco's palate with his precum and making his lips itch to close around the thick member. "I bought you something." He grunted as he slipped fully inside Draco's mouth, his cock hitting the back of the blonde’s throat.

 

 

Draco moaned, his eyes fluttering, desperately wanting to suction his lips and suck. But he held himself still, somehow knowing that this - being under Harry's command - was exactly what he needed to come home to.

 

 

"Want to know what it is?" Harry pumped his hips and Draco nodded as his tongue desperately tried to wrap itself around as much of Harry's cock as he could as it moved in and out. "Close your lips and suck."

 

 

"Mhmmm." Draco groaned as he complied, sucking eagerly and savoring the feel of Harry's cock abusing his lips and filling his mouth. He was so caught up in giving the man he loved the best blow of his life that he barely noticed when his hair was released and Harry grabbed his hands and started guiding them around his sides until they came to rest on the darker man's firm arse. He didn't need to be told what to do next, Harry's intention clear as day, his fingers biting into the rounded flesh before he started moving them towards each other - his head pulling back so he could mouth the head of Harry's cock and tease the sensitive slit. Merlin he loved the taste of Harry, loved sucking him until he spilled himself with a cry, loved - what the fuck was that?

 

 

His eyes rounded as his fingers hit the cool glass nestled between Harry's arse cheeks, his mouth stilling as he traced the wide circular base, his mind trying dumbly to latch onto what he was feeling.

 

 

"What do you think?" Harry's voice hitched, his fingers carding back through Draco's white blonde hair.

 

 

Draco felt his heart pound as he grasped the thing, pulling on it lightly and sucking Harry's cock to the back of his throat in one fluid move, the whimpered moan that tore through Harry's body lighting him on fire. They had talked about getting a butt plug before, usually while Harry was either spread out on his desk for a midday fucking or while the Auror had his face smashed against a wall in some random storage cupboard with Draco trying to quickly stretch him. But for some reason Draco hadn't really thought Harry would actually wear one while out in public, talking to his co-workers, sitting down for dinner with his superiors, the plug filling him up and...

 

 

Oh fuck he was going to cum for too quickly if he didn't calm down.

 

 

Grasping Harry's hips, Draco gave one last long lick before turning the man quickly, his hands spreading his arse cheeks as Harry bent and planted his palms on the stone. He groaned at the sight before him - Harry's dusty pink pucker was slick and red and held open by the shockingly thick column of glass. He watched as Harry's muscles contracted, the man's groan loud in the night air as he leaned forward and ran his tongue around the wide base that held it in place. "Fuck Harry. You should see yourself, you look fucking perfect."

 

 

"Like it then?" Harry pressed his hips back as Draco grasped it and tugged softly once more.

 

 

Draco nodded despite the fact that he wasn't sure if Harry was looking back at him or not. He twisted and tugged and nearly groaned out loud with Harry as a thick round bulb slipped free - Harry's hole fluttering and squeezing quickly back around the rest of the fake cock inside him. "Mhmmm yes, in fact I think you should probably wear it all the fucking time that way I can bend you over and fuck you whenever the mood strikes. God your so wet already...Merlin Harry."

 

 

"Oh shit." Harry moaned as Draco pulled the plug nearly free, only the slender tip of it resting inside him. Merlin but the thing was long and thick.

 

 

"Did you fuck yourself with it after putting it in?" Draco asked, pressing the plug back in all the up to the base, his free hand reaching down to press against his own rock hard cock - his mind flooding with the memory of their anniversary last year when Harry had tied him up and then proceeded to make him watch as he fucked himself with a dildo until he came before using Draco's body in an exact enactment of his show with the toy.

 

 

"No." Harry groaned shakily, his legs spreading as wide as his jeans would let him.

 

 

"Why?"

 

 

"Wanted to wait for you."

 

 

It was strange, feeling the chaotic emotions of the last several days, coupled with Harry’s acceptance and forgiveness and now this – this intense arousal that flooded him and made his mouth salivate and heart thud painfully. He had no idea how Harry managed it, how he made him forget and fill him with such…peace? Love? Rightness? It didn’t matter what exactly, it only mattered that Harry was here now and Draco had no intention of ever fleeing from it again.

"Did it feel good?" Draco twisted, pulled, and pushed, watching as it disappeared and reappeared over and over in time to Harry's stifled moans. "Having your arse stuffed with such a big toy all night?"

 

 

"Fuck yes, ahh, I loved it, made me...oh! Oh yes!....made me think of you."

 

 

Draco felt dizzy with arousal as he spun Harry once more, his mouth engulfing the man's weeping cock as he shoved the clear glass prick deep into his arse - Harry's scream no doubt rousing the attention of the people below. He loved how noisy the man was, how he had a hard time keeping his self-control when he was spinning with pleasure, the knowledge that Harry's hips would be snapping forward any minute and his hair would be roughly yanked any second making him speed up his motions.

 

 

"Oh god Draco, fuck! Fuck yes...more...that's so good." Harry rambled as Draco felt saliva dribble down his chin and Harry's cock force its way past his gag reflex and into his throat, his arm starting to ache along with his jaw as he kept up the fast pace of shoving the toy in and out of Harry's clenching hole. "I'm going to cum." Harry warned, his fingers digging into Draco's shoulders as he tipped precariously forward, his thighs shaking. "I can't - fuck! Draco..."

 

 

Harry's cock pulsed on his tongue, his hot seed shooting down his throat as Draco swallowed quickly without stopping his ministrations. He sucked until Harry's shudders started to subside, the man's cock slipping from his mouth as he continued to lick at the hot flesh and plunder his arse.

 

 

"Draco...stop...I can't..." Harry shuddered, his hands pushing at his shoulders, Draco's mouth reluctantly leaving his crotch with one last deep suck.

 

 

He licked his lips as he stood slightly unsteadily, his free arm grasping Harry's waist and kissing him as he crushed him against his chest. "Not done yet." Draco muttered as he slowed his rhythm with the toy. "I recall you ordering me to fuck you hard."

 

 

"Tell me you love me again and I'll spread for you all damn night."

 

 

Letting go of the toy after burying it deep once more, Draco cupped Harry's face, gray eyes locking with his vivid green. "I love you Harry James Potter, I think I always have and I know I always will." He had first uttered those words as a spontaneous part of his vows but they were a truth that seemed more important than anything else in his life and he couldn't help but remind Harry of that now. "I'm so sorry." He added on, sorrowful for ever disappearing on Harry like he had, hating himself for ever doubting the other man. 

 

 

"None of that, it's forgotten." Harry smiled, pressed their lips together and muttered under his breath as he kissed the blonde - magic tingling over him seconds before he found himself dragged down to the ground that was oddly soft and warm even though he knew it shouldn't have been. Harry spread himself over Draco's humming body, tilting his head and kissing him like he was starving for him. Their hands moved in tandem, divesting each other of their clothing with quick, well-practiced movements, their naked limbs tangling together seconds later in a moment of complete perfection.

 

 

"Harry." Draco whimpered as the plug was added to the pile of discarded clothing, his cock pressing against the man's slick and stretched hole - slipping inside his intense heat easily and smoothly. "Merlin I've missed you."

 

 

Harry's eyes fell shut as he sat down completely, his body still as he adjusted, his hands pressed against Draco's chest. "Feels even better than the plug." Harry murmured as he rocked his hips. "Your cock fits me perfectly." He rose up, dropped down, and circled his hips, groaning long and low. "Because you are mine Draco, always have been, always will be."

 

 

A hoarse cry escaped him as he rolled them, his lips pressing to Harry's as he moved forward - slowly, deeply. It was funny, it didn't seem so long ago that Draco was sure the world would end if he actually admitted to falling for Harry, that it would surely mean the apocalypse if the Auror were to ever kiss him on the balcony of a Ministry Gala. He had spent so long running, spent so much time constructing boxes to frantically shove Harry inside.

 

 

When all along Harry was his and he was Harry's.

 

 

"I love you." He whispered again, Harry's legs wrapping around his hips and a smile curving his lips.

 

 

"I love you too." Harry promised.

 

 

Nothing else seemed as big and scary in comparison.

 

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. I know there may be some of you out there a little (or maybe a lot) pissed at me for not getting into the exact specifics of Draco’s missing memories and subsequently Astoria’s capture and I feel like I should probably address that considering there were so many mysteries in this story.
> 
> The underling root of this story is very much a tale of Draco (and really most the other characters) learning to deal with the repercussions of things. Be it falling for Harry and what happens when he tries to deny it and shove him into boxes in his head, living his life after murdering a friend point blank and not properly dealing with it, and finally how he deals with what happened with Astoria. The specifics don’t really matter, Draco got in trouble for killing Theo, the Death Eaters demanded he do something (insert evil deed here) to pay for it or they would give Astoria over to Thronbee as punishment (because we all know Voldy was a twisted fuck who liked mind games). Draco only has glimpses of the possibility that he wasn’t going to do what they wanted and he can hope that he was going to choose the right thing but really it all comes down to dealing with the fact that Astoria was screwed no matter what and the past is the past and Draco isn’t defined by it. The Malfoy’s were one fucked up but loyal bunch, so Narcissa taking his memories…well I think that says so much. Anyway I hope that makes sense and that you guys are satisfied with the ending :)


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